The Purgation of Terra
by DarkDude57
Summary: A warp storm sends a Space Marine fleet back in time to Holy Terra, or Earth, as it was then called. Instead of encountering their blessed homeworld, they run into a horrible plague.Will they succeed in cleansing the world? Or will they be, left for dead?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note**: I must confess, before we go any further, that I am not the most familiar person with40K lore, nor do I possess any extraordinary writing skill with which I can atone for my various mistakes. I am only a fan of both the 40K series and the Left 4 Dead series, and would like nothing better than to see the crossing of the two glaringly different stories, and of course, to see Hunters being shredded by heavy bolters!

This is my first published story, so go easy on me, constructive criticism would be very much welcomed, of course, praise in places where it is necessary would be doubly welcomed :)

The story is mainly about a space marine fleet from the Temple Chapter being lost in a warp storm. The storm sends them back in time, back to earth before the 41st millennium, where they encounter the zombie infection in the left for dead series.

The Temple Chapter is a chapter of my own creation, so you won't find them anywhere else, I hope.

**0200 hours, Astartes Battle Barge **_**Indomitable**_**, in low orbit around unknown planet.**

"Brother Ondius, report." Brother-Captain Avrus Destrol ordered, voice calm and steady. Destrol stood behind the command console in the bridge of the _Indomitable_, his massive frame made even larger by his ornate power armor.

"Warp travel successful, captain," the deep, robotic voice of the Techmarine said, standing behind Destrol, consulting a data-sheet build into his armor's glove compartment. "Although," he said, "I am yet to be sure of our location after going through the warp storm."

Destrol clenched his fists behind his back, he gazed out towards the ship's viewscreen, at the small planet that spun slowly on its' axis before them.

"Give me the name of that planet." He demanded.

"I have consulted the other techpriests, they have all reached the same conclusion, although we find ourselves hardly capable of believing the results we've obtained."

"Which is?"

The Techmarine paused to draw in a deep breath.

"It would seem that the warp storm has not thrown us into another dimension, instead, it has sent us back in time." He gestured to the planet. "I believe that we are looking at none other than Holy Terra herself, captain. Before the time of the Imperium of Man, before us."

Destrol spun around to stare at the Techmarine.

"Is such a thing possible?"

"I believe so, captain, the planet's location bears a shocking resemblance to the maps around Terra. Although there is something far more troubling below."

"Troubling?"

"Yes captain, we've already run preliminary scans on Terra's surface, it appears to be habited, by humans that have no knowledge whatsoever on the Imperium."

"They have not yet seen the Emperor's Light." Destrol muttered to himself.

"The Emperor, has not yet graced the galaxy with His arrival, captain."

Destrol paused to consider living in a galaxy where the Emperor did not exist, and couldn't fathom the possibility.

"Emperor save us." He said, the irony of his words did not escape him.

"Even more disturbing, captain," the Techmarine went on, "is this feedback that we have received from our surveillance probes one day after our emergence from the warp." He activated a link from his armor.

Destrol's command console winked to life, and he saw the streets of a city, the buildings were many, and all were devoid of Imperial influence. He saw the streets crowded with people, and it was then that he saw the horror below.

The streets were packed with hordes of shambling humans, they were covered with blood, and many showed signs of decay or rot on their bodies. They ran after the few humans who appeared normal with a speed that normal humans could not match, and butchered them with a barbarity that showed an uncomfortable resemblance to Khornate cults.

"Damnation of the deepest bowels of the warp……."Destrol muttered, his normally stoic face showing something akin to horror. "It seems as if the taint of Chaos has touched the holy planet." He gestured at the screen. "The foul work of the plague god, Nurgle. This sacrilege must not go unpunished!"

"Captain, is it possible that our planet has been touched by Chaos long before our Emperor?" The Techmarine half-whispered, as if the very thought was unthinkable.

Destrol set his jaw.

"Then we must cleanse it in the name of the Emperor, for the sake of humanity." He turned to the Techmarine.

"Ready our battle brothers, we go to war."


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the reviews so far, it may seem to be only a few words, but they mean a lot to me. The second chapter continues. A few people have asked whether the Marines will meet the survivors, well, the answer to that question will be revealed in the third of fourth chapters, although knowing the attitude of space marines in the presence of people exposed to the presence of "Chaos", their reaction might not be what you may expect! As always, reviews will be very welcome, as well as highlighting mistakes that I have made. Thanks.**

**0300 hours, Astartes Battle Barge **_**Indomitable, drop bay. In low orbit over Terra. Brother Darius Onduit, Devastator Squad.**_

The drop bay of the _Indomitable_ was crowded with massive figures in hulking power armor, each of them scurrying about the large bay on their one or many tasks. There was not one marine who did not have at least two or more tasks that needed doing. All marines, except the Devastators, of course.

I was perched comfortably on one of the ammunition crates just outside our drop pod, watching the others scurry around with their tasks with bemusement. I now understood why Sergeant Lysus had ordered us to suit up half-an-hour before the call to the drop bay. The massive 300 pound ammunition pack mounted on the back of my power armor essentially relieved me of the laborious task of hauling supplies and ammo crates to and fro.

The five other Devastators seated around me also shared my sentiments as they idly chatted with each other, much to the irritation of the supervising captain. Slacking may be an insult to the Emperor, but we were merely conserving our strength for the battle to come, at least that's what we kept telling ourselves.

"Think you're going to need that, brother?" I asked Brother Polus, gesturing to the lascannon cradled in his arms.

Polus grinned.

"Ask me again when we hit ground, Darius, preferably after we've encountered heavy resistance."

Polus's lascannon might have seemed a lot smaller than my heavy bolter, which was resting on a crate next to me with its ammunition belt detached, but I've witnessed firsthand what the lascannon was capable of, and I have grown a healthy respect for the weapon.

"Will we be encountering heavy resistance?" Brother Ehphrus asked, unlike me, he carried his heavy bolter across his lap, as if unwilling to let it go. Ehphrus was the youngest amongst all of us, and the newest addition to our squad.

"We always encounter heavy resistance," Brother Thorad said, lifting his massive plasma cannon. "That's why we're here."

Ehphrus was about to reply when his eyes widened suddenly, he gestured rapidly with one hand while the other was valiantly trying to keep the heavy bolter from falling off his lap.

"Look look look!" He said urgently. Terminators!"

I turned to get a better look, although not without difficulty.

"Holy Emperor." Polus whistled, "A Chaplain too."

I saw a group of six Terminators stomp towards their drop pod, their Terminator armor making them look even larger than the marines around them. A black armored Chaplain was amongst them, his black artificer armor in stark contrast to the standard white and red armor of the Temple Chapter.

"Still think I'm excessive, Darius?" Polus said, craning his neck to get a better look.

"Means we're expected to run into a lot of frakking resistance." Thorad remarked. "What else is down there that we don't know about?"

Our briefing had been short and precise, telling us that the future of the Imperium lay on our shoulders, and that we have no room for failure. The usual stuff. Little else had been said concerning our mission besides the importance of this mission, we were merely shown picts of the shambling mutants, and that they were numerous, and that we could defeat them with our faith in the Emperor, which at this time, hasn't graced us with His presence just yet, a point I've been careful not to bring up. I reminded myself to say the Rites of Penitence for the thought when I came back.

"Uh oh." Ehphrus muttered.

"What now?" Sergeant Lysus demanded, striding from the open ramp of our drop pod, his arms folded across his chest. Lysus easily dwarfed us all, which spoke volumes of his size. He carried no heavy weapon, preferring the bolt pistol holstered at his hip.

"Librarian."

The sudden silence that fell over the drop bay seemed even louder than the noise that preceded it. I caught sight of the Librarian standing on a balcony suspended above the bay, his staff held casually in his left hand, his right resting on the balcony railing.

If he could feel the unease radiating all around him, and I'm sure he could, he gave no inclination of it. Almost all marines of the Temple Chapter had a healthy fear of Librarians, myself included. It wasn't merely because he was a psyker, it was because they were frakking scary. I've seen a Librarian almost single handedly clear a path through a swarm of Orks with nothing more than a few muttered words and the power of his mind.

The hushed whispers of veteran battle-brothers during dinnertime didn't help either.

"Brothers." The voice of the Librarian rang out through the entire bay. He spoke in smooth, quiet undertones, although every brother in the bay managed to hear him. I suspected he might have been speaking directly to our minds, although the thought terrified me.

"We have heard of the importance of our mission, and we know the implications of failure, we go now to cleanse Holy Terra of the taint of Nurgle, and to pave the way for the future Imperium of Man. Beware the Enemy, for their very beings are contagious. Do not allow yourself prolonged close contact with the foul spawn, or else face contamination yourselves. Go now, my brothers, and the Emperor be with you!"

The marines knelt swiftly and thumped their right gauntlets to their chests, when they rise, the Librarian had already disappeared, leaving the captains to chivvy their brothers into the drop pods.

"That's our cue," Lysus said. "Into the drop pods, brothers, ready yourselves for battle!"

I slipped on my helmet, my battle-brothers doing the same. The familiar and reassuring confines of my helmet greeted me as my HUD activated, allowing me enhanced senses. My squadmates were outlined in bright green. I picked up my heavy bolter and clicked the ammunition belt into place. Hefting its' weight.

We boarded the drop pod, and strapped ourselves within the circular structure. Lysus entered last, pulling on his helmet as he too, strapped himself in. The pod rumbled slightly, as the drop bays of the _Indomitable _prepared to launch us towards our enemies.

"Death from above." Polus remarked as the boom of drop pods being launched quickly drowned out the sound of the whining of our own pod's engine.

With a deafening boom, and a sickening lurch, our pod was flung violently from the drop bay and sent hurtling towards the planet's surface, the roar of the pod's single engine loud enough to silence any normal conversation.

"Sporadic deployments all over the infested city!" Sergeant Lysus yelled over the roar of the engine.

"Tactical Squads Marcus and Redal and Assault Squad Tarus will be battle group 3! They are tasked with cleansing sector 3 of this cursed city! Our squad will provide heavy weapons support, we will link up with battle group 3 upon landfall, and together we shall commence the purging of this world!"

"This city has a name, Sergeant?" Ehphrus asked.

"We believe it is called Fairfield, Ehphrus." Lysus replied.

"Is this the only city to be touched by the Chaos gods?" I asked.

Lysus shrugged.

"That we do not know," he said. "The _Indomitable_ is scanning the planet's surface as we speak."

Once again, the pod shook violently, and the roar of the engine was drowned out.

"Entering atmosphere." The calm voice of the pod servitor echoed in my helmet vox.

Just as soon as it had begun, the roar of the atmosphere faded, and silence reigned. I glanced at the viewscreen in front of me, and I could see handfuls of other white and red pods screaming towards the city.

"Brace for impact!" Lysus roared, and with a thunderous crash, our pod slammed into the ground. There was a hissing sound, and the doors of the pod dropped open.

"Forward brothers! For the Emperor!" Lysus was shouting.

I hefted my weapon, whispered a prayer to the Emperor, and ran out of the pod, trailing behind Thorad's massive energy pack. I could already hear gunfire barking out in the distance. I scanned the dark streets, my autosenses allowing me to see in the dark as clearly as in daylight. I spotted another drop pod ahead.

"Squad Marcus is up ahead," Lysus said. "Link up with them."

We thumped forward, my helmet picking out several massive shaped in the distance. One of those shapes raised an armored gauntlet in greeting.

"Brothers!" Sergeant Marcus greeted. "An honor."

Lysus's reply was drowned out by a bloodcurdling scream. We spun around, unable to place the source of the sound. The tall buildings around us reflected sound, making it all but impossible to track a target by sound.

"Warp spawned fiends!" Ehphrus hissed, his heavy bolter trained on the darkness of the streets before us.

"Where are they coming from?" Thorad glanced around, trying to pick out the enemy.

"Contact!" Ehphrus called out. "Streets ahead."

"Establish firing line!" Lysus ordered, drawing his bolt pistol.

The marines of squad Marcus ran forward past us, taking cover behind bits of debris and abandoned primitive four-wheeled vehicles.

We stood some distance behind the tactical marines, with Ehphrus and me taking the center of the line, Thorad and Polus covered our flanks. Lysus stood behind us to direct our fire.

It was then that I caught my first glimpse of the enemy. Even in the dark, I could see the pale shade of their skin, the pallid composure splattered with dark red blood. They wore tattered clothing, while the pattern of their clothing may seem unfamiliar, the similarity of their clothes implied that it was standard civilian wear. While their bodies may seem to take on a deathly parlor, their eyes were alive with maniacal fury, imbued with the foul sorcery of Chaos.

"I think we found the civilians, brothers." I said.

"More like the civilians found us." Polus replied.

They came at us at a dead run, snarling and screaming, ad if they could defeat us by the sheer force of their hate alone.

They were wrong. We are fear incarnate, and we are the Emperor's chosen.

"Brothers," Lysus shouted. "Open fire, wreak the Emperor's vengeance upon them!"

I watched as the first of the monstrosities ran into range, my helmet picking them out in a bright red outline. I whispered a quick prayer to the Emperor, and squeezed the firing stud on my heavy bolter. The roar of the weapon soon drowned out the horrible screaming of the enemy as hundreds of bolter shells roared their way towards the enemy and tore them to bloody shreds.

I steadied the bucking of the heavy weapon as it sent death towards the enemy, spraying the enemy ranks with deadly bolter fire. Seconds later, the roar of weapons fire intensified as Ehphrus opened fire, decimating the enemy ranks.

The foul monstrosities in the front ranks did not have a prayer. The combined fire of the two heavy bolters tore them to rags even as they charged. But their numbers were staggering, and they kept coming.

The tactical marines of Squad Marcus focused their fire, picking out weak links in the charge so that our heavy bolters were able to bring the assault to a grinding halt as the Chaos spawn tripped over the bodies of their own dead. They fired in sporadic bursts, in contrast to our unrelenting salvo.

"Flank!" Lysus shouted over the roar of heavy bolter fire. "The enemy has flanked us! Polus, Thorad, redirect!"

The two devastator marines ran over to the narrow alleyway behind our established firing line, where another swarm of the mindless humans charged forth. Thorad fired a burst from his plasma cannon, the superheated bolt smashing through the enemy, vaporizing putrid flesh and building stone alike. Polus let loose with his lascannon as Thorad dropped back to allow his weapon to cool, beam of energy tearing straight through the enemy ranks while Lysus fired his bolt pistol into the seething throng.

I hosed my heavy bolter across the mass of former humans, turning the once terrifying charge into a killing zone. As the enemy ranks began to thin, the deep voice of Sergeant Marcus sounded over the vox.

"The enemy strikes from the rear!" He said, voice calm. "Brothers, redeploy to hold them back."

I flicked a glance over my shoulder. Despite the large backpack obscuring most of my view, I could make out another mass of seething enemies running at us in fury. I felt a twinge of unease. Holding off the mass on both sides would leave all six marines of Squad Marcus stretched dangerously thin, while our Devastator squad could hold them off with a withering barrage of fire, we still needed support when the enemy came into close range. Not to mention the enemy attack coming from the alleyway. Thorad and Polus could hold them off for some time, but both their weapons were one-shot weapons which needed time to recharge, and they were meant to take out heavy vehicles, not masses of infantry.

I swept my doubts aside and continued my barrage with renewed vigor. Just as the front assault began to thin out, I heard another voice on the vox.

"Stand fast, brothers! Reinforcements are coming!"A faint and familiar whine of jetpack engines accompanied the voice. I glanced upwards and I redeployed to cover the rear, leaving Ehphrus to mop up the remains of the front assault.

"Death from above!" The voice shouted as I saw six pairs of orange plumes race upwards, higher than the tall buildings around us. The plumes hung there for a heartbeat, then came crashing down upon the seething throng.

The familiar bulk of the assault marines were a reassuring sight as they lay into the enemy with their chainswords, most of the former humans already reduced to pulp under the crushing force of the aerial assault.

Scattered, the enemy lasted mere seconds before they were hacked to bits.

"Brothers!" The assault marine sergeant greeted, his white armor splattered with dark blood. "Sergeant Tarus reporting."

"Glad you could join us, Tarus," Lysus said. "Although you could have come in sooner. Would've saved us the ammunition."

Tarus grinned.

"You're welcome, Lysus."

The sounds of gunfire intensified even as we mopped up the remains of the flanking attack. Sergeant Marcus turned to the assault marine.

"Any word on Squad Redal?" He asked.

The sergeant shook his head.

"None, although we've heard intense fighting from their drop location, I fear they may have been bogged down in the initial assault."

Marcus nodded grimly.

"We must make contact with them. Then the cleansing shall begin in earnest."

"Move out, brothers!" Lysus ordered, "Devastators in the rear."

"We will cover you from above, sergeant." Tarus said. "Those shambling spawn aren't the only horrors that infest this city." He pointed to a distant building, where the silhouette of a hunched creature leapt from building to building, the moonlight illuminating its' progress.

Lysus nodded.

"Be on your guard. Space Marines, move out!"

So we did, the Emperor's chosen, come to cleanse Holy Terra from the foul clutches of the Great Enemy. Zeal and righteous joy singing in both my hearts as we moved out through the city.


	3. Chapter 3

**I apologize for the delay, once again, thank you for reading and the reviews. Keep em coming!**

**0400 hours, Holy Terra, Fairfield City. Brother Darius Onduit, Devastator Squad. One hour after Temple Marines' landfall.**

I knew the shit had hit the fan when the gunfire suddenly died out. Normally, that would mean that Squad Redal had successfully killed off their assailants, however, the ominous roars of the foul creatures and the sight of vehicles sailing through the air which Squad Tarus had spotted highly contested the fact that Redal had prevailed.

Odd, some of the creatures' roars were nothing like the ones we had heard earlier. No doubt the city had an unending list of horrors in wait for us.

Yet, I could do nothing but tighten my grip on my heavy bolter and continue onwards to Squad Redal's drop site, hoping the Emperor would preserve them.

He didn't.

Moments later, I spotted the shape of Squad Redal's drop pod, sitting in the middle of the street, not unlike our own. The jump packs of the assault marines whined as they shot downwards from the top of the building they were perched on, landing around the pod.

"Emperor's bowels!" One of the marines swore.

"Speak of His Holy Majesty with respect, brother!" Tarus snapped, silencing the marine.

"I take it that Squad Redal did not survive?" Lysus said, approaching the pod.

Tarus shook his head, beckoning.

The tactical marines took up defensive formations around the pod while we set up somewhere behind them as the sergeants inspected what was left of Squad Redal. Thankfully, our positions also allowed us to observe the sergeants.

"Good Emperor, what could have done this?" Marcus murmured, kneeling next to the body of a marine, whose entire chestplate was caved in, the Emperor's holy Aquila crushed. Tarus fumed at the sight.

"No shambling creature could have done this." Lysus said. It was true; most of the shambling former humans seemed to be weak, mindless former humans, as Squad Tarus had proved, lacked the strength to take out a marine's power armor in close combat.

"The work of something vastly more powerful." Tarus added.

The rest of the fallen marines were strewn all over the drop site, and the large numbers of former humans lying shredded on the ground around them proved that Squad Redal managed to hold their own for some time.

"Brothers," Lysus said, "the enemy has claimed the lives of the Emperor's faithful, they must know the pain and retribution we bring them! The purge will commence, and all will fall before our might!"

"Advance brothers!" Marcus called out. "Cleanse this sector building by building! Let none survive our wrath!"

The marines slammed their right gauntlets on their chestplates and rose from their positions, advancing slowly through the city.

"Be on your guard," Tarus warned as his marines jetted upwards to the roofs of the buildings. "The creatures that killed Squad Marcus are still out there."

We moved steadily from building to building, the weight of our power armor allowing us to charge through the thin walls and take the former humans by surprise. That is if they were even capable of processing emotion. Mostly they seemed to stare vacantly at the blood splattered walls, content to remain perfectly dormant until we barged in and opened fire. Then they came at us with a fury that would shake the minds of lesser men.

The corridors of the primitive buildings were narrow, barely wide enough for us to fit through. That forced our ranks to advance in single file, and that proved disastrous when the monstrosities decided that it was a good idea to run at us again.

To counter the problem, Sergeant Marcus had his marines advance forward at a crouch, while a devastator, mainly me or Ehphrus, would stand behind to offer covering fire. Heavy bolters were devastating in those tight corridors, and the strategy worked perfectly.

Until we met the special creatures.

I was advancing behind Brother Larx from Squad Marcus, the tactical marine working his way towards one of the doors that led to another part of the building we were clearing. It was a painstaking job, but one we were eager to carry out.

Brother Larx paused just outside the door that led to the last section of the building. Judging from the various cubicles and offices that we fought our way through, I supposed that we were in an office building, not dissimilar to the Administorum offices, although significantly less cluttered.

He was just about to open the door when we both heard a low, guttural growl that came from somewhere behind us. I spun around, no mean feat for someone carrying a massive backpack.

Nothing.

I exchanged a glance with Larx, which was quite odd considering both of us had the same expressionless helmets. I was reluctant to advance knowing my flanks were unsecure, but doubling back would only serve to delay the cleansing. And time was something we didn't have. Brother Tarus had been receiving reports from all over the sector. The reports were unclear, but something was not going well. Besides, Marcus and Ehphrus were close by, if the horde should rush us from the rear, they would be able to cover us.

Larx hesitated, then swung open the door, and was nearly swallowed by the swarm of former humans that charged out, at the same time, a loud scream ensued from the hallway directly behind me. I spun around just in time to see a dark shape hurtling towards me, arms outstretched. It hit me with all the force of an aerial assault, and I fell backwards, nearly crashing into Brother Larx, who was desperately trying to fight off the swarm of creatures that were all over him like foul ants.

Under normal circumstances, I would have withstood the charge of the creature, but I did have a 300 pound ammunition backpack strapped to the back of my power armor, as a result, I ended up on my back, with the former human, or whatever it was, on top of me, valiantly trying to rip out both my hearts.

It was an almost laughable attempt, except for the fact that it was leaving deep gauges in my chestplate, something which I did not care for at all. I jerked my knee upwards, slamming it in the chest and throwing it over my head, regrettably, I realized guiltily, towards the already pressured Larx.

I scrambled to my feet, then thought better of it as Ehphrus and Marcus came rushing down the hallway. I remained as low to the floor as I could and I was treated to the sight of a heavy bolter on full auto rushing past my helmet. I now understood why they called us 'fear incarnate'. As Ehphrus laid down devastating covering fire, Marcus closed forward beneath the torrent of heavy bolter shells and tried to get to his fallen brother. I was worried that the oncoming suppressing fire would hit Larx as well as the enemies around him.

"Ehphrus, cease fire!"Marcus roared over the din. Ehphrus's heavy bolter fell silent as Marcus ran full tilt towards Larx. He grabbed the few remaining creatures that were clawing at the fallen marine and tossed them aside. I heard bones crunch as they cracked against the wall of the now empty room that we were supposed to be clearing.

I clambered to my feet and peered into the room, clapping Ehphrus on the shoulder as he followed suit. Marcus was helping a shaken Larx to his feet and I spotted a surprised-looking Lysus and another marine peering in from the other side of the room.

"Brothers," I said. "Looks like this building has come under the Emperor's grace once more."

"How is he?" Lysus asked, walking over to Marcus and Larx.

"I'm fine, sergeant," Larx said, voice steady. His helmet had come off and his face bore several lacerations, none of them looked bad.

"So much for avoiding prolonged contact, eh?" I grinned.

"Librarian isn't going to be happy." Marcus cracked a smile.

Larx grunted.

"He'll have to live with my few scratches then." He said. "I need the Rites of Purification."

Marcus nodded.

"And get those looked at." He indicated the cuts.

We gathered around Larx and intoned the Rites of Purification, intent on cleansing the taint of Chaos from our brother. So far, the wounds did not look like one inflicted by Chaos, but then again, with the machinations of the Enemy, you could never be sure.

Brother Ossus tended to Larx's cuts while we prayed. When we were done, Lysus activated the team vox channel.

"Brothers," he announced. "This building is clear, time to move on to the next one."

"Whew." Ehphrus announced. We shared his sentiments, or at least I did. Purging a city of the taint of Chaos may seem easy, but then again most of the scribers that had documented city-cleansing had never waded through an infested city building-by-building, trying to get past armies of mutated horrors who seemed to think killing you was the best thing that they could ever do.

While Ossus finished up treating Larx's wounds, I ambled over to the ragged corpse of the creature that jumped me earlier. Lysus noticed me and walked over, frowning as he spotted the corpse.

The creature resembled a human at a cursory glance; one of its arms was shredded where it had suffered the impact of being thrown by me. Its torso was also torn to rags, no doubt the result of the crossfire from Brother Ossus and Lysus. Its legs, however, was still intact, and were corded with thick, unholy muscle. I nudged back the hood that obscured its face with my boot, holding back my revulsion at touching an agent of Chaos. Where its eyes should have been, only two bloody holes remained, it must have navigated with the sight of the Damned.

I kicked aside the body as Ossus rose, Larx picking up his bolter as he followed suit.

"Let us carry on, brothers." Marcus said.

We trooped out of the building and stopped outside for a moment, taking a few minutes to whisper a quick series of prayers, re-check our wargear, and generally get the overall situation of the purge. Which did not seem to be going smoothly, as Tarus reported over the vox.

How an entire expedition of Space Marines was having difficulty in cleansing a city of shambling horrors eluded me, but Tarus had reported several squads already in full retreat. The idea of it was inconceivable, but we were about to find out the hard way very soon indeed.

Two of Marcus's tactical marines, Ulran and Thantus, were huddled over one of the abandoned vehicles with undisguised fascination. I could hear their arguments on the finer details of primitive human technology.

"Similar to our land crawlers, although this has far fewer wheels." Ulran was saying. "And far inferior to the ones of Mechanicus design."

"But this car shows a surprising amount of technology for something this primitive." Thantus said.

I didn't know much about the greater technological aspects of the works of the Mechanicus, but I did know that most, if not all, of the gear they had issued us involved lots of kicking and swearing during their use.

"Primitive," I mused. "Anyone know what year this is?"

Polus chuckled.

"We don't even know what enemy we are facing, brother. Let alone the year."

"The creature that jumped you," Larx turned to me, his helmet in one hand, "I've never seen any of the others do the same."

Lysus nodded.

"Mutation," he spat out the word. "Of the most unholy kind."

Whatever reply that Larx was about to make was drowned out by a high-pitched whistling noise that Rang out through the entire street.

We spun around, bringing our weapons to bear, training them on the source of the sound, which happened to be where Brothers Ulran and Thantus were standing, looking remarkable sheepish.

After several agonizing seconds, the noise died out. I glanced around uncomfortably. We might as well have stuck up a massive neon sign with an arrow pointing downwards saying: 'we are here!'

"Sorry." Thantus said.

Sergeant Marcus was about to reply with a stunning combination of expletives when he was abruptly interrupted by a bloodcurdling scream, not dissimilar to the ones we heard upon landfall.

"Oh frak." Ehphrus murmured.

"Take defensive positions!" Lysus roared as we scurried towards the nearest piece of cover available. I highly doubted that the enemy would be shooting at us, but it was an old habit, one that kept me alive most of the time. Besides, with the little we knew about our enemy, you could never be sure.

One glance at our surroundings and I knew we were in trouble. We were smack in the middle of a crossroads, where the enemy could hit us from four different directions.

Which they did. I spotted a mass of frenzied creatures running full-tilt towards us; yellow eyes alight with unholy fury.

"Pull back," Marcus ordered calmly. "Get out of the crossroads. Advance!"

It was a tactically sound decision. Advancing forward into the one attacking wave while moving away from the other would effectively bring us away from the two flanking attacks, forcing them to combine into one massive mass of enemies.

It beat the frak out of taking them from all four directions at once.

We moved out, advancing inexorably towards the tide of heresy, Ehphrus covering the rear, his heavy bolter roaring to life as soon as the enemy came within range, the bolter shells tearing the hapless creatures to bloody rags.

I vaguely recalled a saying from a book I had once read. 'The more enemies you've got, the more likely they're to get in each other's way.' I suppressed a grin as I mashed down on the firing stud of my own weapon, tearing up the nearest enemies in the front assault. Firing a heavy bolter on the move can be quite tricky; the heavy recoil can easily force you out of balance, spoiling your aim.

It almost seemed to be going well, with Tarus covering the rear and us chewing up the front line, we moved ourselves completely out of the crossroads, forcing the enemy to come at us from two sides instead of four.

Then I heard the thumping. Rapid footsteps, heading towards us, from the rear. They sounded heavy, almost a heavy as a Rhino APC, except that Rhinos tend not to run at the enemy.

"Incoming!" Tarus yelled, a fraction before his marines fired their jump packs, hurling themselves at the massive object thundering towards us.

As Squad Tarus desperately tried to buy us time to redeploy in order to deal with the new threat, my autosenses picked up the details of our assailant. It was massive, easily the height of the small buildings around us, massive cords of unholy muscles rippled around its body, making it tower and dwarf even us. It was vaguely humanoid in appearance, and it unleashed a deafening roar as it charged, barely even noticing the assault marines around it.

I swung around, leaving Squad Marcus to fend off the other assault, I took aim, but the assault marines were still in the way.

"Squad Tarus, clear out! Give us a firing line!" Lysus bellowed, firing his bolt pistol.

The chainswords of the marines buzzed angrily as they were swung at the creature, the blessed teeth of the weapons gouging deep wounds in the flesh of the unholy beast. The creature shrugged away the wounds, raising massive arms the size of small trees and swatting aside the assault marines.

Seeing a clear line of fire, I opened fire, bolter shells roaring towards the beast. The creature shook off the damage, the explosive rounds bursting off its rock-hard skin, and charged directly towards us.

The shock at seeing the beast ignoring the heavy explosive shells was quickly diminished at the sight of the massive creature hurtling towards us.

"Scatter!" Lysus yelled, diving out of the way of the furious beast. I ceased fire and ran, boots thumping on the black road. I felt the force rush past as the beast charged past me with incredible speed, going straight for Squad Marcus.

Polus snapped off a shot with his lascannon as the beast charged past, the blinding blue-white beam of pure energy missing the creature by inches and striking the building beside the alley I ran into.

I swore as the energy beam vaporized the structure, sending it crashing down to the side, as luck would have it, directly onto me. I turned and tried to run out of the alley, where my battle-brothers were fighting for their lives, but the falling structure disagreed with my intentions, and the falling building completely blocked out the path, effectively obliterating my way towards my brothers, and pinning my leg underneath its weight in the process.

Muttering curses under my breath, I shook off the debris, the ceramite plating of my greaves easily withstanding the weight. I unclipped the ammunition belt from my heavy bolter and laid aside the weapon. I hurled myself at the debris and frantically tried to claw my way out of the alley. Even for one as augmented as I was, I simply could not shift aside half a building on my own. The heavy rocks and concrete of the fallen building simply refused to budge.

I swore and aimed a frustrated kick at the blockage, pulverizing the smaller debris. The sounds of battle were getting louder, and there was no way I could get to my brothers to lend a hand. I tried again to shift the blockage, but to no avail. The screaming of the warp-spawn got louder, as if mocking my every attempt.

When the roar of bolter fire began to subside, then stop completely, I knew that my efforts, however valiant, had failed. All I could do now was to pick up my weapon, and find a way out of this accursed alley, and to deliver the Emperor's vengeance against the foul beasts. Fury surged through both my hearts as I reattached the heavy bolter to my backpack and advanced down the alleyway, leaving the blockage behind.

The alley seemed devoid of the shambling creatures, the narrow walkway coming to a sharp bend. The end of the alleyway, was filled with thousands of the former humans, all of them running singly-mindedly towards an objective that I could not see.

Using the narrow alleys, I would have been able to whittle down the foul horde and deliver vengeance, if weren't for the presence of several of the leaping creatures that leapt from building to building.

As angry as I was, I was no fool. Getting myself killed meaninglessly would not serve the Emperor's cause. I stood in the shadows of the alleyways and waited for the infernal horde to run past. When the road was clear, I stalked out cautiously, keeping an eye out for the rooftops, where the greater danger lurked. Thankfully, the streets were clear.

There was a flight of stair leading downwards to another dimly lighted area of the city. Since the only other direction was filled with thousands of the mindless things, I gritted my teeth, and descended down the steps, the fragile ground cracking under my weight. A wrecked car was directly below the stairs, forcing me to go through a large hole in the wall beside it.

The floor below was strewn with the corpses of the former humans, their blood turning the floor into a sticky dark-red mess. Brown crates were stacked neatly along the sides of the wall, a startling contrast to the chaos of the floor. I climbed over the corpses and spotted a door in the end of the small room in which I stood.

The iron door was painted a dull red, with the words 'Dead End' plastered in the middle of the door. A curious looking sign followed the words, it was not the holy sign of the Emperor, nor was it the icon of the foul Chaos gods. I gave a mental shrug and reached out to open it.

It was bolted from the inside. I swore softly and gave the door a harder tug, ripping it off its hinges and tossed the door aside. I turned back to the room and found myself staring down the barrel of a gun which I did not recognize.

Four faces stared back at me, their features a mask of shock and horror. There were four of them, all clutching weapons of unknown design. One of them was a girl, barely out of her teens. The wielder of the weapon aimed at my face, an old man so ancient it was a wonder he could still heft the gun, spat a cigar out of his mouth, his eyes hard.

"What…….the fuck are you?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Once again, thank you for your reviews, especially to ArcherReborn2 for providing valuable insight. I hope to be able to address all of the mistakes highlighted in the previous chapters in the following chapters. Keep reading, and keep the reviews coming! Thanks.**

**0700 hours, Fairchild Subway Saferoom. Survivors, five minutes after surviving the Horde.**

Zoey had just finished reloading both her weapons and was about to find a chair to shake off the screaming faces of the Infected from her head when the door of the Saferoom disappeared with a shriek of tearing metal.

A massive, hulking figure stood in the entrance, the steel door crashing to the ground behind it. Zoey's survival instincts kicked in, her fingers closed around the grip of her pistol and without actively thinking about it, she had already aimed it at the massive beast. She was just about to pull the trigger when she realized that the others were not firing.

"What……..the fuck are you?" Bill managed to say, his submachine gun aimed at the thing's head.

She realized then that the thing was not a tank, despite its size. It wore what seemed like white plates of armor, with red trimmings. A blood red two-headed eagle gleamed on its chest. Like something that had just walked out of a science fiction cosplay.

It also carried a very big gun.

The thing, or whatever it was, seemed to realize that as it stared at the barrel of Bill's gun. Its helmeted head turned slightly to regard the others, pausing slightly as the red eyes of its helmet came to rest on Francis, which, incidentally, was standing next to her.

"Heretic!" It hissed, its voice deep and metallic and laced with hatred. It reached out and shoved Bill aside, the old man flying across the room. He might have broken something if he hadn't crashed into Louis. As the two men crumpled to the ground, the thing raised its massive weapon in both hands, and brought it to bear on the stunned biker.

_Dammit dammit dammit. _Zoey fired her pistol, the bark of the weapon deafening in the small room. The shots pinged off the massive thing's armor. The cosplayer, she didn't know what else to call it, ignored the shots, and fired its massive gun.

A white blur shot past Zoey, slamming into the cosplayer just as it fired. While Louis merely bounced off the massive assailant, he did disrupt its aim. The walls around them exploded in showers of dust and powder.

"Warp-spawn! Feel the Emperor's wrath!" The metallic voice boomed.

_Spawn, like the creature from the movies……_She ceased fire, the coin dropping at last.

"Wait!" She called out. "We're not infected! We're immune, survivors!"

The figure turned towards her, aiming the massive weapon in her direction.

_Oh crap, me and my big mouth._ She dove under a table just as Francis opened up with his shotgun, the deafening boom blowing a large dent in the figure's oversized shoulders. It turned around again, opening fire, tearing chunks out of the wall as Francis ran for cover.

Zoey remained under the table, momentarily forgotten. She saw the massive weapon of the figure as it fired, churning out bullets the size of her thumb. Then she spotted the belt leading from the weapon to the large backpack it carried.

It looked something like the ammo belts the movie leads carried, although they never seemed to run out of ammo. She gritted her teeth, and dived towards the belt, catching it with both hands and giving it a tug with all her strength.

Bingo.

The gun spluttered and died out. The figure, unfazed, tossed aside the gun and ran at Francis with unbelievable speed for something its size. It caught the biker in both hands and drove him against the wall, ignoring the shots from Bill and Louis.

"Die heretic!" It boomed, choking the breath out of Francis. The bike let loose a stream of gasping curses and kicked futilely against the thing's chestplate.

"Francis!" Zoey screamed, rushing forward to pull at the figure's massive arms. She might as well be pulling against a tree trunk. It reached out and swatted her aside. The breath left her lungs in a hurry as she slammed into the damaged wall, the room swam before her eyes as she fought to stay conscious.

A bloodcurdling howl pierced Francis's strangled swearing. The figure froze, letting go of Francis, who crashed to the floor, gasping and coughing for breath while simultaneously trying to crawl away from the armored hulk.

"Oh shit! We're fucked!" Louis yelled as the infected began pouring into the Saferoom through the open space where the door once was.

Bill and Louis opened fire, halting the attack in its tracks. Zoey rushed to help Francis to his feet, firing as she ran.

The armored hulk, clearly deciding that the horde of bloodthirsty zombies was significantly more dangerous than Francis, grabbed its discarded weapon, reattached the ammo belt, and opened fire.

The results were spectacular as the nearest zombies were reduced to mush in a matter of seconds. The figure advanced, firing as it went, until it stood between the door and the infected. Bill and Louis fired over the thing's oversized shoulders. Francis stood aside, keeping a healthy distance between himself and the figure as possible while using his shotgun with deadly effect. Zoey ran to Bill's side, firing much more slowly and carefully than the others.

The horde wavered, then crumpled as the armored hulk mercilessly finished off the remaining creatures. When it was done, it turned back to face them. Zoey lowered her weapon slightly, while the others kept them trained on the figure.

"You stand with this heretic?" It asked, jerking an armored head towards Francis.

"Francis ain't no heretic," Bill growled. "He's just an idiot."

The figure looked Francis up and down.

"Right buddy," Louis said. "We all hate Francis, but right now, we've got bigger issues. Can't killing all of us wait until we're outta here?"

This was ridiculous, there was an entire city-full of bloodthirsty zombies, and this walking tank wanted to kill them all just because it didn't like Francis? This day was getting impossibly FUBARED.

They were moving through the city when they saw the meteors rain from the sky. They had paused, thinking that the army had started bombing the city, but Bill had claimed that it did not look like bombs at all. But when nothing had happened, they decided to move on, deciding not to check out the meteors, concentrating on getting out of the city.

"Your markings, I do not recognize the mark of Chaos on them." It said, mostly to itself. "What do they signify?"

"What the fuck?" Francis spluttered. "These signify hardcore grade 'A' badassery. What are you, some kinda geek?"

"Look," Bill said. "We can't sit here and chat all day, like it or not, we're leaving this goddam hellhole. Either you come with us and give us a hand, or you go the other direction."

After a moment, the figure lowered its weapon.

"We seem to share a common enemy," it said. "Very well, consider this a temporary alliance."

Zoey let out a faint sight of relief, and she noted, with some amusement, that Francis did too.

"Can't wait." Bill said dryly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now help me with this fucking door."

_Ah yes, the Temple Chapter. I do not doubt their dedication in our endless war against the Great Enemy, but I do, however, doubt their faith in the Emperor while fighting His enemies. As you have no doubt already read of their impressive list of victories against the foul minions of Chaos, but you should take heed, that some of their tactics come close to heresy. Indeed, it has come to my attention, however, that for several instances, this chapter possesses a history of dangerous alliances with various Xeno factions. As stalwart as they may be, I have come to find their faith in the Emperor in serious question. In fact, they have seemed to adopt a rather more questioning attitude toward unknown entities that are not of the Imperium of Man rather than concentrating on bringing the Emperor's Light to them. How it is that such a chapter has continued to serve under the Emperor's holy banner for such a long time utterly astounds me. I request permission to place all Space Marines of the Temple Chapter under close observation, and to root out any possible heresy. The traitor's hand falls far closer than it lies._

_Inquisitor Raminius,_

_Ordo Malleus._

**0730 hours, Fairfield Subway Saferoom, Devastator Darius Onduit. 30 minutes after encounter with untainted humans.**

Oddly enough, those untainted humans were not as bad as I thought they were. I still did not trust them, but under the circumstances, they have local knowledge of our enemy, and they know their way around to the city, and most importantly, they might know the routes where my brothers were last seen.

We were not briefed on how to deal with any survivors, we simply assumed there were either none, or they were with the enemy. Yet, these civilians had persisted against the warp-spawn, or Infected, as they had called the beasts, with surprising tenacity. I wondered what else this city held that we did not know about.

"Toss an old man a first aid kit, would you?" The old man said.

The young girl paused her cleaning of her weapons and handed him a red packet with a white cross on it.

"Need help with that?" She asked.

"I'm fine, help Francis. The idiot needs it more'n me."

She turned towards the heretic, although I have come to discover that he was not of Chaos, old habits die hard. At least I hadn't shot him yet.

Francis was sitting in a corner of the room, as far away from me as he could, which I understood perfectly. His neck, while already colored with tattoos, was practically livid with bruises.

The door which I had ripped open was now carelessly propped against the open frame, which was now reinforced with everything movable we could find in the room. No chair could hold me, so I contented myself with standing in a corner instead.

Louis was staring at me, or rather my blood-stained armor.

"What the hell are you?" He asked.

"I am a Space Marine in His Holy Majesty's service."

"What?"

I sighed inwardly.

"A soldier."

"Oh," he said. "Never knew our army had that kinda gear."

"Did you come from the sky?" The young girl chipped in, she certainly seemed to be lively enough, despite the circumstances. "We saw lots of em from down here."

"Yes. We descended from orbit, this city must be purged."

"So," Louis said. "You're an alien?"

Horror surged through my veins.

"Emperor no!" I almost shouted. "I'm human, very human."

Zoey raised her eyebrows.

"You don't look human." She said doubtfully.

"I am."

She shrugged, then returned to tending to Francis's wounds. The rest of the civilians returned to their own errands. Only Louis persisted.

"So," he said, glancing at my armor. "Looks like that thing's tough."

I glanced to where he was pointing. The golden Aquila on my chestplate bore several scratches, no doubt a testament to my previous encounter with the leaping creature. On closer inspection, the damage did not seem as extensive as it had seemed back at the office building. I chastised myself for doubting the hardy ceramite.

"It is." I said, not entirely eager on answering his questions. So I asked some of my own.

"Why haven't you been infected like the others?" I asked.

Bill glanced up, a bandage roll in his hands.

"Cuz we're badass, and cuz we're immune."

"Immune?"

He nodded.

"These zombies are caused by some kinda virus, spread by air and by contact. They do so much as sneeze on yer best buddy's paper cut, next thing you know, he'll be trying to rip your heart out. We aren't affected by this virus. Only thing that'll stop us is a good solid bullet to tha head."

"The machinations of the foul Chaos Gods." I hissed in anger. "I must wreak righteous vengeance upon the warp-spawn!"

Bill stared at me as if I was insane, which made me want to shoot him.

"You some kinda priest or somethin?" He asked.

"A priest that goes around in a tin suit and carrying a really big gun," Zoey grinned. "That's one helluva badass priest."

I glanced at our makeshift barricade. Several fingers of sunlight were seeping through the barricade, bringing the night to gentle end.

I gripped my weapon and took a step forward, noting the four sets of eyes that snapped towards me at the movement.

"We must move." I announced. "My battle-brothers are still out there, we have to get to them."

"There's more of ya?" Francis asked, a note of unease in his voice.

"Whaddya think, genius?" Bill snapped. "Did you miss the hundreds of fire-balls from the sky?"

Francis sighed.

"I hate those fire-balls."

"Drop pods." I corrected. "Those were our drop pods."

"Whatever." Bill said. " Look, son, I don't know what's you're trying to pull, but take some advice from an old man, you go out during the day, alone, you're gonna end up as zombie food. Zombies are spruce in the morn', they're less active during the night."

I bristled.

"I think you underestimate my abilities a little too much. I am a Space Marine, I know no fear, and my brothers need me!"

Bill sighed, he seemed not the least intimidated by me, which was very unusual given most civilians in the presence of men of our stature.

"You may have no fear, son, but you gotta have brains." He went on patiently. "If they all fought like you, don't you think your brothers can hold out till night? Sides', lone wolves buy the farm out here. If we stick together, we can get out of this alive."

"I do not want to get out of here alive, old man, I am here to purge Terra of every single Infected here, even if it takes my life!"

Bill shrugged, while Louis snickered.

"Be my guest," Louis said. "Won't do your buddies any good if you're lying out there in pieces. We come with you, we can help you find them."

_And drive up your chances of survival in the process, _I mused. But my voice of reason urged me to stay put, as much as I didn't want to admit it, the civilians were right. I stood a better chance of succeeding in my mission if I were to learn as much as possible about my enemy's weaknesses.

"We'll make you a deal, son. We help you find your brothers, and you'll help us get outta this hell-hole. Deal?" He offered a wrinkled hand in the old Terran way of greeting.

I hesitated, then enclosed soft human flesh in unyielding ceramite.

"Get some rest," Bill nodded. "We've got a long night ahead."

_Chapter Master, your chapter's records are nothing short of outstanding, but I would like to turn our attention to other pressing matters, that is the faith of several of your marines. To be direct, The Emperor's Most Holy Inquisition finds your faith in His Holy Majesty severely lacking. To even think of forming alliances with the Foul Xenos is to blaspheme against the Emperor. The questioning attitude which your chapter adopts towards unknown entities is very unbecoming of the Astartes, and must be stopped at once. As Inquisitor, I must urge you, and your chapter to cease and desist in these heretical attitudes at once. Consider this a warning on our part, we will not be so lenient in the future._

_Inquisitor Raminius,_

_Ordo Malleus._

**0700 hours, Fairfield City, Inner Quarter, Librarian Joseph Niveh, Terminator Squad. Three hours after Temple Chapter's landfall.**

The purge, in not going well. No, not at all. As difficult that fact is to swallow, I have to believe it. It is not a lack of firepower and armor, the Terminators standing around me a testament to that fact. It is not a lack of fighting spirit, the yelling of Chaplain Marcus over the vox-net with his Assault Terminator squad a testament to _that _fact. Nor was it the extreme strength of our enemies, the countless bodies piled up around our position being proof. No, it was the severe lack of proper tactics and intelligence that caused us our problems on Terra.

I suppose I was partly to blame for that. During my briefing of the embarking marines, I knew as much about the enemy we were facing as they did. Captain Destrol not being particularly fond of gathering sufficient intelligence before a deployment.

If I had launched scout parties instead of the actual strike force, not so many of our brothers would've fallen.

As for the tactics, well, there was a major blunder. The responsibility weighs heavily on both Chaplain Marcus and my shoulders, and even now, I have to keep banishing the nagging guilt from my mind.

We had no knowledge of our enemy, so when massive, muscular giants burst from the darkness to charge our carefully erected firing lines, our lines descended into chaos. Nothing short of lascannons can bring one of these beasts down, and several of our squads did not possess Devastator support.

While the normal Infected, a term which I had recently learned, can do absolutely no damage to our power armor, they can bring a marine down with sheer force of numbers once the firing line has been shattered. Individually isolated from their brothers, these Infected demonstrate surprising tenacity in tearing off the helmets of our brothers, and killing them in this brutal fashion. It does happen quickly, but happen it does.

Thankfully, the leaping Infected do little much except disrupt several of our brothers, their claws only succeeding in scratching their power armor. There has also been isolated reports of mutated Chaos witches attacking several of our squads. So far, no sorcery has been used, although it does seem like the work of the plague god.

I kicked aside a male Infected with my boot, and frowned.

If there was sorcery abound, I would have felt it. Yet, my senses remain clear, except for……I spun around and fired single round with my bolt pistol. The bolt blew the Infected's head clean off its shoulders as it slumped to the ground with a wet thud.

The Terminators around me opened fire with their storm bolters, tearing up the enemy with grim efficiency, idly swatting aside those that came too close. Leaving them to handle the regular Infected, I reached out with my senses, sweeping the buildings around us.

A leaping infected screamed and leapt from its perch on the roof of a buildings, arms outstretched to bring one of us into a brutal embrace.

He didn't have a prayer. I raised my power staff, the golden eagle seated on the top of the staff flared white as I summoned up my power. A bolt of cleansing white light lashed out and struck the infected with all the Emperor's fury, turning it into dust.

"My lord," Argus, the Terminator sergeant approached. "We should move, they increase their attacks with greater intensity the longer we remain in one fixed location."

I nodded. Most space marines in our chapter had a healthy fear of me and my fellow Librarians, not that I objected to the healthy aura of fear, but the Terminator squads which I had led bore no such illusion. We had served with each other for many millennia, and we stood together as brothers.

I slammed my staff on the ground beneath out boots, white fire rippling outwards from where we stood, turning every Infected it touched to charred husks. Librarians in our chapter were exceedingly rare, due to the fact that only individuals of exceptional psychic powers were given training. As a result, our Librarians were very much more powerful than the Librarians of other chapters.

"The path is clear, brothers." I said. "Let us move."

We trudged forward, my mind still focused on the tactical situation. Eighteen squads deployed over six sectors of the city and its outskirts. Five squads had lost contact with the _Indomitable_, five more were in full retreat, three were bogged down and required support, two Terminator squads under Marcus and Niveh were doing fine, as were the remaining three squads. The Astropaths of the _Indomitable_ kept him updated with a steady stream of information on their deployed forces.

Worst yet, many of those squads did not have fixed numbers, making logistics and tactical deployments even harder. The city itself offered little vox support, making communication even more difficult. Plus, with all squads deployed completely ignorant of the special infected, things became messy very fast.

Time for radical relocations.

"Brothers, link up with Chaplain Marcus and his squad, we need to find all remaining squads and offer support, we stand a better chance of completing our mission once we are united."

The Terminators flashed acknowledgement runes and moved out along the city. In the far end of the city, I could make out the green sign of the city's medicae facilities.

A cacophony of screaming sounded from the dark streets before us. The Terminators raised their weapons and advanced, moving with increased alertness.

I did not wear a helmet, wearing instead the reassuring feel of my psychic hood. The chapter's armorer had offered me a suit of Terminator Armor to match my brothers, but I had declined the offer, preferring my own suit of blue artificer armor which my former master once wore.

"Forward brothers, for the Emperor!" Argus, the Terminator sergeant roared. Their storm bolters barked as the infected came into range, the shells ripping apart the decaying flesh with contemptuous ease.

A sleek rope shot out from one of the building windows, wrapping itself firmly around the arm of one of the Terminators. Another one of the special infected, this one preferring some measure of discretion compared to its foul brethren. The Terminator gave a low chuckle, gripped the rope, which resembled the creature's tongue with his power fist, and gave the tongue a mighty tug. A strangled shriek from the infected sounded from the window, followed by the entire length of the creature as it hurtled towards us. It landed heavy at the Terminator's boots, still shrieking as the warrior raised a massive ceramite boot and caved in its entire torso.

The assault had faltered, and the Terminators were now mopping up the remaining infected. _How many citizens did this city have? How many have we killed?_ I found myself unable to keep count. _not enough, _I thought as I trudged through the corpses.

My senses spiked a warning, something big was headed this way.

"Incoming." I warned, keeping my voice calm and steady. "One of the giants."

"Defensive positions!" Argus ordered.

"Cancel that." I said. "Clear off the streets, leave this creature to me." There was a reason I wanted to best the beast alone, and it wasn't empty bravado. If this creature had a weakness, I needed to find one, fast.

I could see the shape of the creature, charging towards me with berserk fury. I stood calmly in the center of the street, my staff in both hands, pulsing softly with white light. Once it came close enough, I pushed out with my mind, not to wound, but to seek.

The giant recoiled as my mind touched its own. I raked its relatively small mind, searching for the distinctive feeling of taint, and finding none. My suspicions were confirmed. This beast was not of Chaos. Touching the mind of a minion of Chaos other than to kill it was very dangerous, and even frowned on by the Inquisition. But I have had my suspicions for some time, since I have felt the lack of Chaos sorcery in the city.

The Inquisitors never had to listen to their brothers die while they remained halfway across an infected city, so as far as I was concerned, the Inquisitors could go gak themselves.

_Stop. _I sent the whisper through my mind. The beast came to a screeching halt, panting heavily, resting on all fours. It was human, no doubt about that, the small head and the remnants of civilian clothing proving that. Its lower jaw was missing, and on close inspection, I found it partially absorbed by the thick layer of skin and muscle around it.

_Obey._ I willed it, pushing out again. The creature shuddered, then let loose a deafening roar, with amazing speed, it swung a massive fist in my direction. I raised my staff, letting my mind flow through the staff's power. The creature's fist smacked against a rock-solid white shield of pure faith, bouncing off harmlessly. The force of the blow sent me reeling backwards, otherwise unharmed.

"Stay back." I ordered as several of the Terminators raised their weapons.

The creature came forward again, bellowing in rage. _Too little of a mind left to control then, the remnants of its ravaged mind only capable of primeval functions, which was pounding me into red paste at the moment._

I dodged another wild swing of its fists, rolling under its guard. I slammed my staff into its chest, sending a bolt of white-hot energy smashing into it. The beast roared and reeled back, its chest smoking and charred.

_Mostly immune to physical strikes. _I dived away again as it attempted to pound me to the ground, leaving massive craters on the road. Before it could move its arms, I ran towards it and gripped one of the pillars of muscles. The creature bellowed in rage as it tried to shake me off, to no avail. I tightened the grip on my gauntlets, and swung upwards onto its massive shoulders. It shook itself violently as it tried to dislodge me.

_Not a chance._

I raised my staff with both hands, and brought it down on the creature's head with a surge of psychic energy. White light tore through the creature's head, exploding outwards through the wounds on its body. Lifeless, it crumpled to the ground as I leapt off it in one fluid motion.

_Psychic attacks, very vulnerable._

"That was interesting," I remarked to myself as we resumed our advance. "Let's move, lots of ground to cover."

I now knew the enemy's prime weakness, and now, my brothers needed help.

Only countless infected stood in our way.

_Oh well, at least we've got lots of ammunition._


	5. Chapter 5

**Note, once again, thanks for the support, they actually keep me going while I am writing. These letters between Inquisitor Raminius and the Chapter Master of the Temple should help to enlighten everyone on the problems this chapter has with the Inquisition, as well as the behavior of the marines of this chapter. This chapter will be slightly short, but it contains a major plot element, if you do not understand where this is going, please be patient, the full light of the plot will be revealed soon. If I make any mistakes regarding the Survivors, any feedback on how they should act and speak will be very much welcome. Enjoy.**

* * *

_Inquisitor Raminius, I am honored that His Majesty's Holy Inquisition has allowed the time to review our record. As for your other concerns, I shall be equally direct. How is it, that an Inquisitor that has never served with us, can find our faith in question? Are our Chaplains not preaching the Emperor's word to all that would listen? Are our Librarians not wielding their faith in the Emperor in combat? And are our marines not fighting every single battle in the name of His Holy Majesty? You have read our records, of that I am honored, so how can you find our faith in question? Is it our connections with the Xenos? The Imperium is a massive empire, Inquisitor, and not all of the Imperial Doctrine can be used in the given situations at the given time. Might I remind you, Inquisitor, that had we not formed a hasty alliance with the Tau, the entire Ordus sector would have fallen to the Necrons. Therefore, Inquisitor, as much as I loathe to fraternize with the Xenos, I will readily do so again to avoid the unnecessary deaths of more loyal servants of the Imperium._

_Chapter Master,_

_Temple Chapter._

* * *

**0730 hours, Astartes Battle Barge **_**Indomitable**_**, in low orbit over Holy Terra.**

Brother-Captain Destrol looked as if he had never left the bridge ever since the first drop-pods were launched. Techmarine Ondius felt a strange sense of déjà vu as he approached the massive frame of the captain.

"Captain." He acknowledged. Destrol turned around and nodded at the Techmarine.

"What news from the surface, Ondius?" he asked, voice calm. "I am in dire need of some good news."

Ondius sighed, a metallic sound.

"I fear that things are not going well, captain." He reported. "This city does not allow our vox to operate efficiently due to some sort of disturbance that I cannot eliminate." The admission stung slightly, he gritted his teeth and carried on. "Most, if not all, communications with our brothers on the surface are limited to Librarian Niveh and the _Indomitable's _Astropaths."

Destrol cursed softly, clenching his armored fists. Psychic messages were sketchy and unreliable, with the recipients receiving only flashes and images of the intended message, and often open to misinterpretation, but given the circumstances, it was all they had.

"Five squads out of contact……." He whispered to himself. "Have I misjudged our enemy?"

Ondius was shaken, all his years serving with the man, Destrol had rarely ever shown signs of doubt. Perhaps it was the underestimation of their enemy that ate at him, or perhaps it was knowing that the future of the Imperium rested on their shoulders.

Mercifully, his date-link chirped, no doubt from the engineering servitors from the decks below. He frowned at it for a moment, then glanced up at Destrol.

"Captain, the emitters are ready, we can now execute the second stage of our plan."

Destrol frowned.

"With half our squads out of contact?"

The Techmarine hesitated.

"Time can be bought for our brothers to get to our mustering grounds," he said. "But any time spent delaying will result in the Infection spreading even wider, beyond our control."

Destrol nodded.

"I understand, Ondius, but I will not abandon our brothers to their deaths knowing that they can still be saved. Once the emitters are planted, they will bring every single warp-spawn in a three hundred kilometer radius running towards our muster point. Nothing else outside that point will survive."

The space marine captain sighed inwardly. He had sent his brothers into the city relying only on the pict-stealers from the skull probes deployed, not knowing the true nature of the enemy. He had thought to cleanse the taint of Chaos in one, cleansing sweep, but he was wrong. He was now forced to take a drastic change in strategy. Librarian Niveh had been providing him with a steady stream of information on the Infected, and Destrol was determined not to make the same mistake again. He had Ondius to fashion several psychic emitters, each one attuned to the mind-set, or what passes for the mind of an Infected individual. Once activated, the emitters will lure all infected within its range towards the main transmitter, which will be the muster point of the second wave of marines. This time, they will be ready.

"Yes captain," Ondius said, "shall I delay the deployment of the emitters then?"

"Contact Niveh and Marcus, tell them to evacuate all battle-brothers to our muster point, they have thirty minutes to do so. After they have done so, have the main transmitter dropped at Niveh's location. He shall activate it at the muster point once our brothers are with us again. I had hoped that we never had to initiate the second stage, but it seems that the Enemy has forced our hands."

The Techmarine bowed, and left the bridge, already on the vox with the ship's Astropaths.

Destrol turned towards a subordinate near him.

"Ready the First Company for deployment," after a moment's hesitation, he went on. "And the armored companies as well."

* * *

**0600 hours, Fairfield Subway Saferoom, Devastator Darius Onduit. 14 hours after Temple Chapter's landfall.**

"Don't you ever sleep?" Zoey asked, munching on a piece of old bread taken from the group's supply bag.

I shook my head. Space Marines could stay awake for days before requiring any form of rest. If need be, we could even 'turn off' several portions of our brain in order to remain functioning at optimal conditions.

"I couldn't sleep either." She said, leaning on the cupboard next to me. The others remained asleep, Francis snoring slightly.

"You should," I said. "Normal humans need sleep to remain at optimal function."

She raised both her eyebrows. She really was young, I suspected she might still be in the schooling age. My respect for her raised a notch for what she had been through.

"You're not very good at talking to people, are you?" She asked.

Was I? In fact, I can count on one hand the number of times I had spoken to civilians, and none of them was a leisurely conversation. Frak it, I was made to fight the Emperor's enemies, not to socialize. Although I was told that skill came in handy sometimes too.

I shook my head.

She sighed. "Well, I don't think there'll be many people to talk to after all that's happened. So I guess we'll all end up like you!"

I glanced at her, not sure what to say to that.

She grinned.

"Just kiddin, relax." She glanced at the large red cross on my pauldron. "You're a Christian or somethin?"

I glanced at her quizzically.

"What's a Christian?"

Her eyes widened considerably.

"Holy crap," she said. "You must really be from another universe. It's a religion, you have religion where you come from?"

I nodded vehemently.

"Yes, of course we do. The Immortal God-Emperor protects us all."

Zoey laughed.

"Well, he's not doing a good job right now, eh?"

Under normal circumstances, I would've shot her for such heresy. But she said it so innocently, and it was clear she did not know of the Emperor yet, and I decided to forgive her, just this once.

I was just about to tell her all about the Emperor when Bill coughed and sat up, glancing at both of us.

"What time is it?" He asked.

Zoey glanced at her wrist, then realized that she did not have a watch. I slipped on my helmet and accessed the chrono on my helmet display.

"6.10 p.m." I said.

"Time to go." He rose and stretched, bones cracking. He turned towards Francis and gave the biker a furious kick. The man swore colorfully, although they were words that I did not recognize. After a while, he got up at well, glaring at Louis, who tried to stifle a grin.

"Francis may be all buff and macho," Zoey said. "But he's actually a nice guy."

"The heretic?" I snorted. "How hard did I throw you against that wall?"

Zoey laughed, a light sound that I have never heard in ages.

"Ah," she said. "He jokes, looks like our tin man isn't that bad after all."

"When you too are done chatting, get your asses over here," Bill snapped. "We've got to get moving."

I picked up my heavy bolter and stomped after Zoey, who was standing in a loose circle around a small table which was not smashed.

I stopped behind Bill, tall enough to merely peer over his head at the table below.

"Alright," Bill said. He seemed to be their leader, everyone naturally deferred to him. Perhaps it was his age, or maybe greater experience. I would have easily trumped him in combat experience, but he had the home field advantage, so I was willing to let him lead.

"First thin's first. How much food do we got?"

Zoey rummaged in the bag, frowning. She pulled out a bag of bread that stank slightly, and several cans of what I guessed were food.

"Not much, but enough to-" she glanced at me, standing at twice Bill's height. "No, not enough." She corrected hastily.

Bill nodded grimly.

"Then we'll have to go scavenge for more. Unless our giant here has loads of food in that tin can of his?"

I opened a storage compartment in my armor, and dug out the ration bars that we were issued by the apothecary's crew before deployment. The tasteless sludge wasn't easy on the throat, but it contained everything a Space Marine's advanced metabolism needed in order to keep functioning.

"Unless you have two hearts, three lungs, and lots of genetic augmentation," I said. "Then you'll be welcome to share my food."

Zoey paled, while Francis spat.

"I'll pass." He said. "Where's the food store?"

Bill glanced at the small map on the table. It was partly torn and splattered with dried blood, I wondered where it came from.

It was a necessary delay, I understood, these civilians needed food to stay alive, and I needed them alive to help me find my brothers.

"There's a Walmart just across the street upstairs." He pointed to our makeshift barricade. "I think it should mostly be still intact."

"Course its' intact." Louis said. "Zombies don't blow up buildings. Last time we were up there, the whole fucking horde was trying to eat us for dinner, they might still be up there."

"They won't be." I said. They turned to stare at me. "They all went after my brothers, and even if they are still there," I patted the heavy bolter. "I can handle them."

Bill frowned in annoyance, at what, I did not know.

"Fine," he said. "_We_ can handle them, let's go." They picked up their weapons, checked them, and started removing the barricade.

It took me a moment to realize, that when Bill said 'we', he had meant me as well. I walked over to them, and began helping with the barricade.

It was raining outside, the rain raising a cacophony of its own. I watched with amusement as the Francis swore and shook the rain out of his leather vest.

"I hate the rain." He grumbled.

"Quit whining and stay alert." Bill snapped.

The rain poured off my armor, washing away the blood while I remained warm and dry inside. Zoey glanced at me enviously.

"Do they make those my size?" She asked.

I chuckled as we arrived at the roadside. Bill halted, raising a hand as he did so.

"Time to cross the damn street, Walmart is just over there."

I glanced around, true enough, I could see the shop he was mentioning opposite the street, the signboard caked with grime.

"Alright," Bill said. "Francis and I will cross first, Zoey, Louis, follow when we give the all clear."

"I'll provide covering fire." I said, feeling a little left out. I missed my battle-brothers, not having them at my side proved to be quite disconcerting. I pushed the thought out of my mind and concentrated on the streets.

Bill glanced at me as if I had said something dumb, the insolent old man. Without a word, he beckoned to Francis.

"Need Francis to hold your hand, Bill?" Zoey quipped as they moved. Louis snickered , falling abruptly silent as Bill shot him a venomous glare. The two men ran across the road, weapons ready, coming to rest behind an abandoned car just in front of the shop. Bill waved, motioning to the other two.

"See ya on the other side." Louis said to me as he ran. I could hear the tension in his voice despite the forced cheer.

I swept the streets with my heavy bolter, eyes and ears straining for the rasp of an Infected throat. The rain did not help, but my autosenses provided me with greatly enhanced sight and hearing.

So far, so good.

Bill flashed me a thumbs up, as the civilians covered both ends of the streets. For mere civilians, they seemed to know what they were doing, I noted in pleasant surprise, at least the people who I was forced to work with weren't so helpless after all.

I ran across the street, painfully aware of the loud thumping noise that my ceramite boots made as I crossed the street. I arrived safely at the other side, wondering with some amusement at the hassle of crossing the street.

Bill and Francis covered the door of the shop, while Louis hesitated at the door, poised to swing it open. If there was a horde of Infected waiting inside, he would not survive. I walked over and pushed him aside as gently as I could without tossing him to the ground. I reached out and swung open the door.

Pitch black, no problem for me. The interior of the shop was empty, much to the relief of on Louis's face. I stomped in and stood aside to allow the others in, raking the small interior and deciding it was clear in the moment that it took for Bill to step in.

"All clear." I announced.

"How the hell would you know?" Bill said. "You haven't even searched the area."

I glanced at him.

"Don't argue with the ten foot tall giant, eh Bill?" Louis said. "He knows what he's doing."

It occurred to me that Louis did not know what a Space Marine was capable of, maybe it was the survivor's mindset of trusting the guy with the bigger gun, or maybe, just maybe, Louis was just being nice.

I did not know how to react to that, so I took several steps into the store, my eyes raking in the details of the store in a single glance. The shelves of store products were mostly intact, although several shelves had been toppled, spilling their contents to the floor. Some parts of the floor were caked in dried blood, and the glass on the store windows were broken.

"Looks like Christmas is here guys." Francis whistled, walking up and down the shelves.

"Take only what is necessary," Bill advised. "Dump the junk." He glared at Francis, who had a white crate clutched in his hands.

"Beer ain't junk. Sides', they help raise our spirits."

"Help turn you into a gibbering asshole, more like." Bill snapped. After some grumbling, Francis tossed the crate aside, although I spotted him sliding several of the white cylinders out of the crate and into his vest.

I stopped at the rows of shelves, feeling ridiculously bulky as I could barely fit through one row. I decided that I would be better off watching the exit, so I turned and stood at the door, covering the entrance with my heavy bolter.

I could hear the rustling of several food packages as the others loaded food into their bags. I could hear every bit of their conversation even from all the way across the store.

"Ooh," Zoey said. "Pringles!"

"You wanna gain weight in a middle of a zombie infestation?!" Francis chortled.

"The extra weight ain't gonna hurt." Louis said. "It'll keep you warm at night."

"Hell, _I_ can keep you warm at night." Francis said.

"_Eww!" _Zoey exclaimed. "Stick back to cuddling guys, Francis. You're better at it."

Louis laughed while Francis glared at him.

"Or maybe you can sleep in Bill's lap." Louis chimed in.

"You two better shut it or I'll stick my rifle up _both_ yer asses!" Bill snapped.

"What about Zoey?" Francis mock complained.

"I'm underage." Zoey said, grinning.

"No you're not." Louis said.

"Still a kid though." She shot back.

I was initially worried that their bickering would jeopardize their teamwork during combat, but now, I hastily withdrew that thought. They seemed to have a bond that would hold even when sent through the furnace of battle. I could safely make that deduction because I had seen the same in my battle-brothers. Emperor, how I missed them.

I quashed the thought and turned back to the street. I would not be doing them justice by brooding. The streets were still clear. The area was silent, too silent.

_Where was the strike force? Eighteen squads of the Emperor's finest are deployed, so why do I feel like I'm the only Astartes left?_

I gathered up all the emotion, and drove it deep down, where I could call upon it during battle. The city was almost enveloped in darkness, with only the last fingers of bright orange in the horizon.

A sudden, piercing wail shattered the silence. Directly behind me.

I spun around, heavy bolter poised to send a hail of deadly shells into the enemy.

"You idiot!" Bill glowered at Francis. If eyes could fire bolter shells, Bill would have killed Francis.

"How the fuck would I know the fire-escape was still working?"

"Guys……" Zoey trailed off, silencing the two men. I turned in the direction she was staring at. The emergency door which Francis had opened was thick with moving shadows.

Infected.

"Run like hell!" Zoey slammed the door shut, the pounding of fists on the metal already ringing out through the store. They grabbed their supplies and ran towards the exit.

"Shit!" Louis swore, fear lighting up his face.

The streets were full of frenzied infected, all of them running full tilt at the five of us, yellow eyes awash with fury. From both sides, again.

"Move!" I shouted.

"The subway!" Bill was yelling. "We'll get through there."

I turned and mashed down the firing stud of my heavy bolter. The roar of hundreds of bolter shells drowning out the screams of the foul things. The nearest infected were cut down in a matter of seconds, the charge stalling. Then I remembered the other side of the street. I turned around and hosed the Infected down, keeping up the pressure on the swarm.

"Move, giant!" Bill yelled. "We'll cover you!"

I ceased fire and ran across the street, while the combined fire of the four survivors kept the horde off my back.

As I ran, a long, moist rope shot past my helmet, wrapping itself firmly around Francis's chest. The biker shouted obscenities as the tentacle tightened around him and yanked him off his feet. Zoey shouted his name as the biker was dragged across the street right towards the screaming horde.

"Fuck!" Bill snarled and aimed at the direction of the tentacle. It was well obscured behind a window. No good shot.

"Francis!" Zoey yelled. "We gotta go get him!"

"There's too many of em' out there!" Louis said, firing his weapon on full auto, not even bothering to aim.

I raised the heavy bolter and fired a burst into the window. The shots smashed into the building, sending bits of debris flying. There was a scream and a burst of smoke as the tentacle creature was torn apart. Miraculously, the tentacle still had Francis in its foul grip. The biker struggle fruitlessly, the screaming infected rushing around him, each one trying to tear him to bloody shreds.

Frak it.

I unclipped the ammunition belt from my weapon and tossed it aside.

"Cover my back!" I roared, charging towards the horde around Francis. I slammed into the mass of infected with all the Emperor's fury, several hundred pounds of solid ceramite and flesh crushing the former humans into a bloody pulp. I swung my fists with a fury that would've impressed the Sons of Russ had they been there to see it. Infected died on every side in my bid to reach the helpless Francis.

Covering fire from the others kept any more infected off my back. Slowly, the momentum of my charged failed as I was beginning to become bogged down by the sheer mass of flesh around me. The infected screamed in hate, their hands scratching futilely at my armor, unable to do me any harm. I kept my helmet down firmly, knowing that it was the most vulnerable part of my armor.

I smashed infected left and right, unable to get to Francis, unaware that I was bellowing incoherent war cries. A sudden boom cut through the din of the infected, and suddenly, my way was clear. I strode forwards, wading through the pool of seething flesh.

Francis was on the ground, the barrel of his shotgun smoking as the infected piled up on him. I reached out and punched through the creatures, grasping the biker firmly by the scruff of his vest. I lifted him out of the swarm with one hand and began fighting my way back to the others.

The biker slung over my shoulder pad, I smashed aside the nearest infected with my ceramite gauntlets. After a moment, I burst through the horde, Francis yelling and firing his shotgun over my shoulder. I ran over to the others, dropping Francis at Bill's feet and rearming my heavy bolter.

"Fall back!" I yelled as I fired, the shells once again tearing apart the remnants of the attack, effectively holding the charge at bay. The survivors ran down the stairs, heading for the Saferoom, while I followed suit, firing as I moved.

Once I was close enough, I ceased fire and ran towards the room, my boots thumping against the ground. The others had reached the Saferoom and were beckoning to me, providing covering fire at the same time.

I burst through as Bill and Louis pushed a heavy cupboard over the empty doorframe, reinforcing it with all manner of utilities from the room. The infected slammed their fists into the makeshift barricade, then when it became obvious they weren't getting through, gave up entirely and fell silent.

The collective sigh of relief from all the survivors was tension dissolving. Francis slumped into a chair, hands shaking slightly while Zoey approached him with a medicae kit. Bill drew out a crumpled square packet from his green jacket and withdrew two white sticks, handing one to Louis, who shook his head. Bill shrugged, and handed it to me, a silent invitation.

"You smoke, son?" He asked. Apparently, this was the tobacco stick that the hive-dwellers back in the 41st Millennium so loved. I slipped off my helmet, clipping it to my belt, setting aside my heavy bolter as well as my backpack, free of my burden at last, I stretched my back slightly.

Astartes enjoyed no luxury, seeing it as a form of weakness that can be exploited by the enemy. As a result, I had no idea what smoking one of these was like, although we knew of its health hazards.

"I'll pass, old man." I said, smiling slightly in thanks for the offer.

"I could do with a smoke." Francis said, his chest and arms thick with bandages. Zoey sat near him, looking smug.

Bill tossed the stick to Francis, who lighted it eagerly, taking a long and satisfied puff.

"Hey giant," he said, looking at me. "Thanks back there, those goddam zombies damn near got me." He looked very embarrassed.

"You're welcome."

"You and me," he said. "We're cool now? No trying ta kill me in my sleep?"

I grinned.

"We're 'cool'" I replied, picking up the odd word.


	6. Chapter 6

**Apologize for the delay, I have been having bits of blocks here and there, with any luck, work on this will be able to go on as usual. Thanks a lot to Nero Vipus and ArcherReborn2 for their valuable input. To answer one of the questions asked, Zoey is NOT falling for Brother Onduit. That would be just......odd. Besides, Space Marines are far too busy choking the shit out of the galaxy to worry about mundane things like love :P Anyway, thanks for your patience, and keep the reviews coming!**

* * *

_Chapter Master, might I stress, for the last time, what the Emperors wills of all His servants. Abhor the alien, kill the alien. Is that not the reason why your founding legions undertook the Great Crusade when the Emperor still walked amongst His people? To rid the world of alien influence and restore human superiority to the universe? Your actions have shamed and scorned the very cause of that Crusade, and the memories of your fallen brothers. Do not desecrate their honor any further by continuing your fraternization against the foul Xenos. This will be my final letter to you, as well as my last warning. If you would choose to ignore this, we will meet again, but not as allies.  
_

_Inquisitor Raminius,_

_Ordo Malleus. _

**1500 hours, Fairfield City, approaching Mercy Hospital, Librarian Joseph Niveh, Terminator Squad. Three hours earlier.**

"The fleas of a thousand grots damn you through every single orifice!" Chaplain Marcus bellowed, flinging a hapless Infected with his fist. "Die, spawn of gretchin frakkers!"

I suppressed a smile as the chaplain kept up his torrent of abuse as he smashed any infected that came too close. His squad of Assault Terminators stood behind him, thunder hammers and storm shields held ready.

We had cleaved our way through the inner quarter of the city, with Infected activity increasing drastically in broad daylight. Mercy Hospital was in sight, our squads advancing steadily on the building. I intended to use it as a rallying post of sorts, to serve as a beacon to our wayward brothers.

I had received the message from the Astropaths on the _Indomitable, _the psychic message sketchy at best, but I was able to successfully deduce its meaning. I can still picture the images and feelings in my head. A brother-captain standing atop a hill, his chapter's banner in his hands, his battle-brothers flocking around him, holding off swarms of faceless enemies at bay. A long, cylindrical beacon, of what looked like a miniature communications array, and lastly, a fleet of Thunderhawk gunships.

To an untrained person, it would've been nothing but a riot of images and color, but I was able to sieve out its meaning. I was to rally my scattered battle-brothers, gathering them towards one single point, where I was to activate a beacon to signal for extraction. I had sent a request for most ammunition and supplies to be dropped at our location. If we were to rally our brothers, we needed supplies.

I choose Mercy Hospital because of its visibility from all angles of the city. It was around this building that we shall rally out brothers.

"Supplies are coming, brothers." I informed the others. "We shall use this building for our next objective."

"Emperor damn y-" Marcus paused in mid-curse as he stepped off the infected he was crushing. His skull-visage helmet turned to regard me.

"No small task, Librarian." He said, voice full of good cheer despite the situation. "Are we supposed to scour every inch of the gakked up city in search of those lost frakheads?"

I suppressed a grin. Chaplain Marcus took his duties as company chaplain seriously. Loud and generally ready to greet friend or foe with an oath and a blow to the head with his Crozius Arcanum, although those who knew the chaplain personally swore that the routine swearing was a way of hiding his affection for the troops he lead. Initiates hated him, the veterans loved him.

"The Emperor had not seen fit to grace us with landspeeders, Marcus, I guess we will be walking."

Marcus glanced at the heavily armored Assault Terminators around him, energy crackling around their weapons.

"Nothing like a fancy jog in Terminator Armor, eh?" He sighed, sounding slightly like a steam train. "You lads tired?" He bellowed at his squad.

The Terminators, used to being treated like initiates by the chaplain, responded with an even louder roar.

"No, brother! We are not!"

I sighed mentally, preparing for the next wave of attackers that would surely come with all the noise that they were making. True enough, a piercing scream shook the air.

"For the Emperor!" Marcus bellowed, pointing his Crozius at the oncoming swarm. "Go gak yourselves!" He screamed at the howling creatures.

My squad opened up with their storm bolters, chewing apart the infected that came from the other side of our position. Brother Crassus chuckled as the assault cannon on his arm roared to life, all six barrels of the weapon hurling thousands of rounds at the enemy. The charge was shredded before it even began.

Threat neutralized, I glanced at the chaplain's squad. Infected were flying in every direction, the roar of the Terminators drowning out the snarls of the beasts, the roar of Marcus drowning out everything else.

I stepped smoothly aside, evading the upper half of a male infected as it came sailing my way. A couple of my own marines clicked their tongues in mock annoyance. Marcus came stomping back, his black artificer armor splattered with blood and gore.

"Crassus, Belae, Nathus, Quintus." I called out the names of the Terminators. "Come with me. The rest will stay behind and receive the supplies and the beacon. Guard it with your lives."

Nearby, Marcus did the same, calling out three of his men and leaving the others with the same orders.

We knelt in a circle, Marcus standing in the center. As chaplain, it was his duty to lead us in prayer, regardless of rank. We prayed to the Emperor for deliverance, and intoned the Catechisms of Righteous Loathing to keep us strong. Marcus laid his hands on the helmet of each marine, bestowing blessings on them.

"The grot-herders do not have a prayer against us!" He called out. "For we are Space Marines, and we are fear incarnate!" We rose at once, Marcus's voice rising in volume, his blessings fading into random curses against the enemy. I felt the grins of the men around us, the strong well of emotion keeping them together.

"Move out, brothers." I ordered calmly before Marcus could say anything else. "and stay quiet." Marcus made a disdainful gesture with his gauntlet, but remained silent, thankfully.

I had activated the fallback runes in my armor, indicating Mercy Hospital as the fallback point. The same runes would flash on the helmet display of every marine deployed. With the Emperor's grace, they would make their way towards us. Those that were pinned down, we would extract with our own hands.

I reached out with my senses, probing every corner for anymore lingering presences, finding none. We quickened our pace, moving as fast as marines in Terminator Armor could move.

"Sector three." I said. "Remnants of Battle Group Three are bogged down by the enemy. We shall aid them."

We advanced through the infested city without much incident, the storm bolters of the Terminators making short work of any straggling infected, Marcus and his smaller squad shattering the lesser charges. We encountered several of the special infected, but they were nothing more than a nuisance to the Terminators. I kept my mind in search for the presence of the massive giants, with them being the only real threat.

Silence reigned once more as I dispatched the last infected with a single round from my bolt pistol. We advanced through the narrow alleys, intent on getting to the battle group's location. I looked upwards, studying the familiar yet foreign touches of human architecture around me. There was much that these old Terrans had accomplished, perhaps even the Imperium could learn from them.

Much technology had been lost during the Dark Age of Technology, with the Mechanicus reduced to merely replicating rather than inventing. I could change that, if I could study this city further. I stowed away the intention for later, focusing on the task at hand.

A loud, kneeing wail shattered the silence. The Terminators froze, their aim snapping towards the direction of the sound.

"What is it?" Marcus turned towards me, leaning slightly on his weapon, not the least perturbed by the chilling wail.

"It sounds like crying." I muttered, my mind racing out to find the source of the noise. Not once have I heard anything like this before, save Daemons, and there were none here.

A lone presence, a figure slumped on the ground. Long, filthy and matter hair and tears. The head glanced up sharply.

Blood-red eyes stared back at me.

I recoiled at the image, shaking the last vestiges of the sight out of my mind.

"Bloody hell." I straightened, waving away the Terminators who approached to offer help. "Left, inside the building." I pointed to a door. Witchery. It looked like a foul servant of Chaos, but like all the others, it did not feel like one.

I shouldn't have bothered with pointing. The door flew open before Marcus could open it, and a slim figure shot out. The wail was replaced by a bloodcurdling scream, it sprinted towards me, no doubt severely pissed by my psychic probe, screaming incoherently.

It moved too fast for the Terminators to track it, I raised a hand, just fast enough to bring up a psychic wall. The witch slammed into my shield, barely slowing as it came for me, brandishing claws as long as a forearm. I had misunderstood the strength of the foul witch, mistaking its slight form for weakness, projecting a much lighter shield.

It slammed into me, forcing me to take a step back. I lashed out with my mind, sending the witch flying backwards, slamming into another Terminator. The marines opened fire, storm bolters barking. Accuracy was poor at close range, and several Terminators advanced, power fists crackling to life.

The witch shrugged off the bolter shells, although those that hit tore horrific damage into the creature. It screamed, and charged at me once more. From the corner of my eye, I spotted Marcus and his squad advancing towards me.

Before the witch reached me, I lashed out again, seizing the creature's mind with my own, forcing it to a grinding halt as it screamed in agony and hate. Pure grief struck me like a fist, staggering me, the emotion very foreign, and very intense. I fought back, ripping apart the foreign emotion with the power of the Chapter's Librarians, sending a psychic spear into the creature's mind.

Marcus reached the creature, grabbed it with one hand, and smashed in its head with his Crozius, cutting off the screaming abruptly.

The chaplain tossed aside the limp corpse, turning to stare at me.

"You alright? Need to go cry in a corner now?"

I shook my head, nudging the mangled corpse of the witch. The bolter shells had done horrific damage to the witch, how it had managed to keep charging at me was something I could not explain. Like the others, it bore no taint of Chaos. It was no mutated cultist or Chaos witch.

"Let's move." I said, maintaining an aura of calm. "Our battle-brothers are just ahead."

As we moved out of the alleyways, the sound of gunfire intensified, as did the screaming of the infected. I could feel my brothers from a distance, their fury and strength forming a steady force amidst the chaos. Beneath the layer of determination, kept firmly in check, I sensed desperation.

"Frakheads can't break through on their own," Marcus said, drawing his bolt pistol with one hand, the other on his Crozius. "We'll do it for them!"

"Frakheads don't have Terminator armor, chaplain." I shot back. "Nor do they have the privilege of your enlightened 'wisdom' to guide them."

"There, up ahead!" One of the Terminators called out, pointing.

An intersection of three roads lay ahead, directly in the middle of the intersection, stood the marines of Battle Group Three. Infected rushed at them in all directions, screaming with hate. Bolter fire streaked from the tight circle they had formed, cutting down the enemy with lethal precision. The rhythmic thump and hiss of a plasma cannon punctuated the gunfire every few seconds, lighting up the entire area with its fiery heat.

"Incoming." Crassus said, raising his Assault Cannon. "We're in the way of the next charge." Directly behind us, another horde was charging, their movements casting wild shadows in the faint flicker of light from several street illuminators that were still active.

"Cut them down!" I ordered. "Brothers, form a firing line! Marcus, spring our brothers free!"

"For the Emperor, brothers! Charge the spawn of incestuous grot-herders!" Marcus bellowed, running at the enemy with fury of his own, the Assault Terminators following close behind, heading directly for the embattled marines.

I turned my attention back to our line, where the Terminators were already tearing up the enemy with storm bolter fire, Crassus thoroughly enjoying himself as he let loose with his weapon. The ground charge contained, I looked upwards, detecting a familiar presence.

A leaping infected screamed, leaping from a building at me, arms outstretched. I raised my staff, white lighting leaping from the golden Aquila on top and spearing the beast square in the chest, sending its limp form sailing back through the air.

Time to clear out the area. I stepped forward, past the Terminators. I swept my staff in a wide arc, lashing out with my mind, muttering prayers to the Emperor. White cleansing fire swept aside the howling infected, turning them to ash, ending the wave.

"To me, brothers, advance!" I ordered, power staff glowing with energy. We charged towards the battle group's location, where Marcus was doing an excellent job in carving up one entire side of the infected street all by himself.

The marines stood on a massive pile of corpses, forcing the infected to climb over their own dead. Four assault marines stood in the front, eviscerating those who came close. Some marines carried makeshift weapons, their bolters empty. Their sergeant, a marine large even by Space Marine standards, stood in the center of the circle, bellowing orders, a large iron rod clutched in his gauntlet.

I charged forward, leaving the Terminators to provide suppressing fire. I smashed into the thick swarm of infected, staff blazing with power, turning the nearest infected to dust. They were on me in an instant, clawing and scratching futilely at me armor. I slammed my staff to the ground, sending them flying with a burst of psychic energy.

"Push forward, brothers!" the sergeant roared. "Break out of this foul frak-hole!"

The marines took up the way cry, swinging weapons and firing bolters. The plasma cannon fired again, the devastator holding it following closely behind as the blast vaporized an entire handful of infected.

My staff hammered down, smashing the skull of an infected trying to claw at my face. I fired my bolt pistol while swinging the staff, cutting them down left and right.

I turned, watching Marcus clear out the street. I raised my staff high, the Aquila crackling with cleansing power.

"I speak His word!" I called out, touching the minds of my brothers, instilling them with strength and faith. "None can stand before us!"

The marines let out a roar and charged with renewed vigor, smashing clear of the infected swarm, hacking and shooting their way out of the horde. My squad kept up a withering barrage of covering fire as the marines moved.

Marcus stomped over, his squad following suit, drenched in gore. The Terminators mopped up the remaining infected, then turned to cover the streets.

"Brother Librarian" The sergeant saluted. "Devastator Sergeant Decius Lysus reporting. Thank you for the aid, brother." He bowed and saluted as Marcus approached.

"Status report, sergeant." I said.

"Purge half-complete in sector three, brother, we were attacked by different kinds of warp-spawn, and we were pinned down here."

"Casualties?" I asked, although I could already see the shadow across his face that I knew only too well.

"We lost all but three marines from Tactical Squad Marcus, one casualty from Assault Squad Tarus, Squad Redal did not survive." He paused, " and one from my squad."

I nodded, sensing that the marine's mental strength still remained strong despite the loss of his brothers. I expected no less from a Space Marine Sergeant.

"We've been stuck here all day," Sergeant Lysus went on, "without devastator support, we would have fallen hours ago."

I nodded, looking at the grim faces of several marines who had lost their helmets.

"Ammunition?"

Lysus glanced at his marines.

"Brother Ossus still has two clips left, Ulran is out, Larx is on his last clip. Both Thorad and Polus have sufficient energy packs. Brother Ehphrus?"

"Twenty rounds, sir." The young marine said with a grin.

The assault marine sergeant shook blood out of his chainsword.

"Chainswords," he said with self-satisfaction. "They never run out of ammunition."

They would never make it back to Mercy Hospital if they encountered another wave of enemies like this one. But taking them with me would slow us down, something that the other squads could not afford. I glanced at the chaplain, who gave an almost imperceptible shrug. Damn the man.

The marines shifted uneasily, returning their eyes to the streets, scanning for approaching enemies. They, like most brothers in the chapter, had a healthy fear of Librarians. Perhaps it was the indoctrinations that they received on psykers, of maybe because we could pluck out thoughts from their minds at will.

I turned to my squad.

"Share out extra clips, brothers. But leave enough for yourselves." The Terminators moved amongst the Tactical Marines, sharing extra clips of bolter ammunition. Storm bolters fired the same rounds as normal bolters, so clips could be shared if need be.

I drew my bolt pistol and tossed it to the sergeant.

"Follow me."

* * *

**2100 hours, Fairfield City, back alleys. Devastator Darius Onduit, six hours later.**

"Look out!" Zoey called as the Hunter screamed and pounced. I turned around and let loose a withering volley from my heavy bolter, transfixing the creature in mid-leap and tearing it apart.

I nodded in thanks and turned to cover Bill and Louis, who were keeping the flanks secure.

"Move!" Bill said, smoke swirling from the cigarette in his mouth. The others turned and followed him down the warren of back alleys. The enemies here seemed mostly dormant, content to merely sit and brood until we arrived to blow them into tiny pieces.

We had trudged through much of the city since the frantic supply run, moving through the city's abandoned subways, emerging into the back alleys which we were in now. My hands were numb from firing the heavy bolter, and we had killed so many that even I had lost count.

During the entire push through the city, I have learned much about the enemies we fought. As much as they seemed like it, they were not of Chaos, according to the survivors, they were infected by a virulent plague that did not seem to affect the survivors. The plague was air-borne, and apparently, I was immune as well, due to my Space Marine's immunity to disease.

"Eyes on the windows," Bill cautioned. "Look out for Smokers." I had also learned that he was a former soldier, which explained his level of calm and his experience in weapons and tactics. He seemed way past prime fighting age, but from what I had seen, he was still more then capable.

Bill was on point, Louis and Zoey on the flanks, with me in the rear, Francis just in front of me. I glanced at the readout on my helmet display. My ammunition was running dangerously low, I either had to find a supply drop, or find another weapon, depriving the team of heavy weapons support.

We emerged from the alleys, Bill signaling a halt. We faced a warren of buildings, of what seemed like warehouses. We were in a courtyard of sorts, with abandoned vehicles littering the area. Several zombies shambled about aimlessly, still in a dormant state.

Bill pointed towards a small lift at the end of the courtyard, directly opposite us.

"We gotta get up on the roof, move through the buildings, and make our way to the hospital, there's more cover in those buildings, we stand a better chance of making it through."

According to Zoey, they had received word that a pickup was imminent at Mercy Hospital, if the pickup was still there, they would be able to make it out of the city alive.

Still no sign of my battle-brothers, during the push through the subways, there was not much to find, although I had expected more signs of my brothers through the city. They had been corpses piled up at certain points of the city, the mangled bodies bearing the unmistakable signs of bolter wounds, but of the marines themselves, there was no sign.

The only exception being the white flashes of light that punctuated the darkness at random. I had served with Librarians before, and I knew what they were capable of. The last flash came from the vicinity of Mercy Hospital.

"Why do we always have to cross the fucking zombie-filled spaces?" Francis muttered, pushing more shells into his shotgun.

"Its' only a few dormant ones," Zoey said, looking out at the shambling forms. "Nothing a few rounds and a fast run can't handle."

"No." I said, causing them to turn and stare at me. "There are many more in the shadows, I can hear them."

"Any specials?" Bill asked.

I shook my head, trying to filter through the riot of gurgling and hissing.

"Can't tell."

Bill nodded, slamming a fresh clip into his rifle, the others doing the same.

"Through the shit-fest then." Louis said.

"Stay close." Bill advised. "Move!"

We ran forward, ignoring the zombies furthest from us, the two pistols in Zoey's hands barking as the nearest fell, their decaying skulls splintering under the pistol rounds.

As we neared the lift, a massive, bloated form stepped out from behind the wreckage of a massive trailer. So _that _was where the gurgling was coming from. I swung my heavy bolter around and opened fire, dimly aware that Zoey shouted something that sounded like 'no!'

Too late. The heavy rounds tore into the putrid flesh. The bloated frakhead exploded in a shower of flesh, blood, and some other substance I couldn't even bear to contemplate. The green bile splattered all over us, bathing us in a shower of thick green bile.

By the Emperor, it stank.

"Shit!" Francis shouted, wiping the bile off his eyes. Bringing his shotgun to bear. The cries of the infected drowned out Francis's cursing as the horde came running for us.

I couldn't see past the thick green sludge, so I ripped off my helmet and hastily stuck it to my belt. I opened fire, turning the closest zombies to mush.

"Move!" I shouted. "Get on the lift!" I kept up bursts of suppression fire, keeping the horde at bay while the others scrambled up the lift.

"Come on, Darius!" Zoey yelled. "We've got you covered!"

I backpedalled carefully as I fired, clambering up the lift. Louis flipped the switch and the lift groaned upwards. It shook under our combined weight, but the machine was meant for heavy lifting, and it shuddered upwards.

"They're coming from the roof!" Francis called out. Zombies were crawling from the roof as well as from the windows of the buildings.

"They're coming from everywhere!" Zoey yelled.

"We're covered in zombie-hump juice," Francis said. "Of course they're coming from everywhere."

I raked the roof with my heavy bolter, clearing a bloody path for the others to move through while the infected below scrambled on top of abandoned vehicles and scaled walls with a dexterity that surprised me.

"This way!" Bill shouted over the screaming of the zombies. He barreled through a large rectangular window, his rifle roaring. The survivors followed suit. I paused at the window. _Damn the civilians and their small windows._

I crouched, fitting through the space. The others were firing out the windows as I came through, with Bill and Francis firing down a massive hole in the floor from which several infected were climbing through.

"Move!" Bill shouted over the roar of gunfire, he dropped through the hole, the muzzle flare of his rifle lighting up the darkness of the space beneath. Louis followed close behind.

"What the frak is up with small spaces?" I growled, triggering the heavy bolter again, sweeping the floor with it. Zoey slammed a fresh clip into her pistol, and clapped me on the shoulder pad, something I saw rather than felt.

"They're thinning out," Louis said. "Gotta move!"

I aimed downwards, firing a controlled but steady stream of bolter shells into the concrete, shattering it. I raised an armored boot, and crushed a large enough space for me to fit in, ammo pack and all.

"Glad you could join us," Bill snickered, glancing at me, then at the warren of dark corridors beyond.

A warren of very small corridors. Frak it.

"Let's go." Bill led the way as we shot our way through the corridors, past row after row of dark rooms, finally emerging into a warehouse that, thank the Emperor, was very large. Zoey and Bill snapped off a couple of quick shots to keep the lurking infected at bay.

A faint thumping sound echoed through the large warehouse, and it wasn't me. Louis's gaze snapped upwards, fear etched in his features.

"Oh shit." He whispered.

"Tank!"Zoey shouted, her eyes wide. Moments later, a massive form burst through the door at the end of the warehouse. One of the massive creatures that was the source of all my troubles on Terra. One of the creatures that scattered my squad, killed my brothers.

Not this time.

I roared in fury, bringing my weapon to bear and letting loose the full fury of a Devastator marine. The heavy bolter shells screamed through the air towards the massive creature that was hurtling through the warehouse at impressive speed.

The Tank had let loose a roar that would put an Ork mob to shame and was charging towards Zoey and Louis's location when my torrent of bolter shells intercepted it, impacting on its armor-like hide. The shells tore skin and hide from the creature, causing it to roar in pain, although it did not even slow. It veered off abruptly, no doubt identifying me as the one who was causing the most pain, and charged at me instead.

I roared back at defiance, refusing to back down, bringing the Emperor's retribution to the foul creature. Only this time, the Emperor's retribution spluttered and started clicking rapidly.

"Frak!" I shouted just before the tank slammed into me. I found myself sailing through the air, a very foreign feeling as I've never done that before. Moments later I felt a dull thud as I slammed into a storage rack of empty crates. My armor took the brunt of the damage, but the charge left be breathless.

I tossed my weapon aside, hastily removing the cumbersome ammunition pack before the Tank came at me again. The others were pouring fire into the thing's back, but it ignored them, and raised a massive fist to grind me to the ground.

I spun aside, free of the pack at last, barely moving out of the way as the Tank pounded my ammo pack to bits of scrap. I clambered to my feet, the servos in my power armor whining slightly. I dodged a wild swing from the creature, backpedalling furiously, my hands reaching out for weapons.

The Tank roared again and charged, muscles rippling and shining with its own blood. I spotted an odd vehicle that had two prongs mounted in front, no doubt used for heavy lifting. It would have to do. I ran towards the vehicle, moving faster than the creature due to my Space Marine's augmentations. The other survivors provided suppressing fire, tearing terrible wounds into the creature, it could not last for long.

I reached the lifter, and crossed over behind it. The Tank was getting closer, good. I grabbed the rear end of the lifter and gave it a mighty shove with all my augmented strength. The results were very gratifying. The Tank's momentum carried it right onto the prongs, impaling it through its softer abdomen. Only someone with my strength was able to force the prongs into the monstrosity, mangling the metal as it tore into the creature. It roared again, the sound seeming to be the only method of communication for it, then slumped against the lifter, unmoving.

I heard a combined series of exhalations from the survivors as they stepped out of cover, cautiously approaching the dead Tank. I shook my head, wondering why four other people perfectly identical to Zoey were walking towards me. The interior of my helmet felt dark, lifeless.

"You alright, man?" Louis asked carefully, all four images of Louis speaking at once. I reached up and ripped off my helmet, seeing the cracked eyepieces.

"I am fine."

Francis whistled.

"Going one-on-one with a Tank, now _that's_ badass." He said.

"Keep moving," Bill said, unfazed. "We can have champagne and hero-worship after we get to safety."

"Sounds good," Louis said wearily. "Wish we brought that beer, Francis. I sure could use some now."

"Alcohol will affect your mental capacity, and it will reduce combat effectiveness during battle." I said as we moved out.

Louis gave an exasperated sigh, while Francis snickered. Wondering what I had said wrong, I followed behind.

"I need a weapon." I turned to Bill. "Where is the next weapons cache?"

He shrugged.

"We'll be lucky if we find ammo, son, let alone weapons. We'll keep an eye up."

"You even need weapons?" Zoey stared at my armored gauntlets, each one twice the size of her own hands.

We continued moving through the corridors, encountering mostly dormant infected. The team was deprived of heavy weapons support now, but my fists and augmented strength managed to keep most of the zombies at bay.

"We gotta head for the sewers." Bill said as he slammed a fresh clip into his rifle. "A lot safer than humping it through the streets."

"More small spaces." I muttered to myself. "Emperor deliver me."

Zoey grinned and fell in behind Bill, who took point again. I covered the rear, keeping any unwanted company at bay. I glanced downwards. My chestplate had taken a battering after the fight with the Tank, but it still held. It had been through worse. We were still splattered with the bile from the Boomer, but by the Emperor's grace, its zombie attracting effects had stopped.

I swung a fist, caving in the entire torso of a zombie who ran at me, snarling. I grabbed two others and slammed them to the floor.

"Incoming!" I said, the zombies seemed to charge in waves, and I did not know what made them do it.

"Pipe bomb, clear out!" Zoey yelled, hurling a cylindrical device that gave off a loud beeping sound. The zombies veered sharply away from us and ran for the bomb, intent on tearing it to pieces. According to the survivors, loud sounds seemed to send them into fits of rage.

The detonation was loud, gratifying, and reduced all the zombies around it to a red, pulpy mess. I smashed aside the ones who survived, feeling slightly like a dreadnaught against these weak foes. I knew, however, that in large masses, these creatures could be deadly.

We emerged into another storage space, this one containing rows of fuel tanks, all of them neatly arranged in ordered rows.

"The entrance to the sewers are right over there," Bill said, pointing to the opposite end of the room. "Looks like we gotta fight our way through." He added as another swarm of screaming zombies came charging out of the darkness around the tanks.

"I'll take point!" I yelled. "Stay close!" My armor would take the full brunt of the attack, being immune to the regular zombie attacks, which would leave the survivors clear to provide covering fire.

I charged forward, yelling battle cries as I pounded through the swarm of corrupted flesh, clearing a brutal path through the room for the survivors. They followed closely behind, weapons barking, keeping the ones I missed at bay.

A long, slithery rope shot out from the darkness, wrapping itself firmly around my chest. Frakking Smokers. I grabbed the tongue with one hand and gave it a mighty tug, watching with satisfaction as a long shape came hurtling towards me. I met it in mid-flight with a ceramite gauntlet, pulping the damned thing.

After what seemed like an endless routine of swinging my fists, I broke clear of the horde, the survivors behind me mopping up the rest. My armor was splattered with all kinds of gore, the white of the ceramite dyed dark red.

"When we get outta here," Louis said. "I'm gonna volunteer you as a professional boxer."

I smiled, looking at the carnage around us.

"The boxers actually want to go home after a match, Louis, not straight to the hospital." Zoey said, wiping her hands on her blood-soaked pants.

"Alright guys," Bill announced. "Sewers are here, in we go." With that, he disappeared into the ground.

"I hate sewers." Francis said, following suit.

I stomped over to where the two men had vanished, finding a ridiculously small hole in the ground.

"Let's go Darius." Louis said.

I stared at the hole in disbelief.

"_How," _I asked. "_In the name of His Most Holy Throne on Earth, am I supposed to fit in that?"_


	7. Chapter 7

**Wow, it certainly has been a while, eh? To those that I have left hanging, I am very sorry. Got swallowed up by life, and only recently managed to get the time to begin again. The reviews and the support I have been given have certainly touched me, and I thank all of you for the support. Dumbledore is Gay, thanks for the input, I'll don't think i'll rewrite the chapter, although I'll address the issue, thanks :) I took a bit of a liberty here with Darius's armor, as I honestly do not know what Space Marines wear under their armor, so I presumed a bodysuit would be natural. If anyone knows otherwise, do let me know. The final pieces of the plot are in motion, and the next chapter won't be far away, I promise! Keep the reviews coming, good or bad, they make my day :)**

* * *

**2200 hours, Fairfield City outskirts, forests. Scout Squad Epilus, seven hours after deployment of attractor beacon to muster point.**

Sergeant Epilus held up a closed fist, freezing the rest of his squad in their tracks. He kept his eyes on the small shambling horde in front of him, waiting for them to shuffle past before signaling his squad forward.

The three other scouts slid through the dense undergrowth, listening intently past the gurgling of the infected for any unusual signs of trouble. It was eerily silent, save for the infected themselves. It was as if all other forms of life had ceased to exist.

Epilus checked the readout in his bionic eye, just a short distance more. He un-slung his heavy needler sniper rifle and peered through its scope. The bridge seemed clear, although there seemed to be one single warp-spawn sitting in the middle of it. It was crying, the foul undulations of the beast sending waves of unease mixed with hate through Epilus. His brothers bristled, feeling the same.

"I have a visual on the target," Epilus whispered into his vox. "Secure the bridge on my mark."

Acknowledgement runes winked green on his visor as he readied himself for the shot. The needler fired slivers of highly toxic needles, capable of making even a frenzied Chaos Marine regret its career.

Epilus lined up the shot, placing the crying creature's head firmly between his crosshairs. Red eyes glinted from behind its matted and filthy hair.

He exhaled.

"Mark."

The needler jerked as he squeezed the trigger. The sliver shot forward, slicing deep into the creature's neck, utterly silent. The warp-spawn twitched slightly, then let loose a piercing scream that was cut short abruptly as the toxins dissolved its brain.

The other scouts burst out of their cover and made for the bridge, taking up defensive positions around the bridge, bolters held ready. Several infected ambled towards the bridge, keen on investigating the sudden noise. Suppressed bursts from the scouts' bolters served to permanently discourage them.

Epilus approached the center of the bridge, re-slinging his sniper rifle as he went. He drew a long cylinder from his belt, the arcane device whirring to life at his touch. Spikes shot from its base as he put it down, anchoring the device to the ground.

He raised his hand to his ear and activated his vox link. The vox link seemed to work anywhere outside the city, perhaps it was the foul machinations of the Enemy that interfered with the work of the Emperor.

"Squad Epilus to _Indomitable_." He voxed. "The device has been set, en route to next objective."

"Copy, Squad Epilus," the reply chirped into his earpiece. "Emperor be with you. _Indomitable _out."

"Move out." He ordered, already readying his weapon. They still had to secure a suitable landing position for the main strike force to land.

**

* * *

**

2200 hours, Fairfield City, Inner Quarter, Librarian Joseph Niveh, leading the "Librarian's March" on approach towards Mercy Hospital.

The putrid face in front of me shattered into bits of ragged flesh and smashed bone as it met a round from my bolt pistol. The infected dropped soundlessly as I looked for more targets. Around me, all that remained of the First Cleansing Wave dropping the closest enemies.

The march, or more like a frenzied charge through the entire city in search for our scattered brothers was not the most pleasant I've experienced. We had only managed to link up with twenty-two marines, out of the fifty or so deployed. I forced the sense of loss aside and focused on the task at hand.

Four sets of flames shot out from the building above us, hurtling towards the ground with frightening speed. The Assault Marines slammed to the ground, cracking the pavement. Sergeant Tarus approached and saluted.

"Sir, nothing from the rooftops," he reported. "We've combed the entire Outer Quarter from above, if there's anyone left out there, they didn't make it."

I nodded grimly, expecting as much.

"Any civilian survivors?" I asked.

He looked puzzled at the question, the idea that there were any civilians left did not occur to him.

"I didn't see anyone sir," he said. "We're the only ones left."

"So much for finding out what really happened here." I said mostly to myself. "Alright brothers, move out."

Mercy Hospital was within sight, my auto-senses could make out the outline of several Terminators standing guard outside the main entrance to the hospital. The only problem was, most of us were out of ammunition, and the city never seemed to run out of infected citizens.

Another piercing howl heralded the coming of yet another wave of the frakkers.

"Move!" I yelled, gesturing towards the hospital. As we ran, the swarm rounded the nearest corner, screaming at us.

By the Emperor, there were a lot of them.

"They'll be on us in seconds," Chaplain Marcus said. "We have to make a stand. Break the bastards."

He was right. I turned to the marines

"Brothers!" I called out. "Hold here, they shall see us run no longer!"

With machine-like precision that could only come from decades and centuries of experience and training, the Space Marines took up their positions without my telling them to. Marcus and his Assault Terminators formed the front line, while my own squad took up position to cover them. Most of my squad had run dry on ammunition, including Brother Crassus, who had used up the last of his Assault Cannon ammunition to rip apart a tank, and a good portion of the building behind it.

The other marines stood behind us, makeshift weapons held ready. The air around us crackled with energy as five Assault Terminators suddenly materialized beside us, appearing with a thunderclap of displaced air and energy.

"Looks like you could use some extra firepower, brother." The lead Terminator saluted me. He and his brothers held boxes of ammunition in their massive gauntlets..

"The Emperor could not have timed this better, brother." I said, allowing a small smile as my squad loaded their weapons.

"Here they come!" Marcus yelled. "Smash their putrid infested crap-holes into the 41st Millennium! For the Emperor!"

"For the Emperor!" The Space Marines roared, and they opened fire, bolter rounds tearing into the seething mass.

There was a deafening crash as the infected swarm smashed into a solid wall of Terminator Armor and Storm Shields. The shields let out repeated booms as well as forks of white lightning as the infected that struck them were instantly dissolved. The Terminators chuckled at the charge, while the sheer mass of the infected streamed around them and headed directly into our killing zone, where the storm bolters of my squad promptly tore them apart.

"Clear them out!" Marcus roared, and as one, all eight Assault Terminators slammed their Thunder Hammers into the ground before them. The ground shook with a thunderous roar as several massive craters opened up in the ground, the rotting flesh of our enemies smashed to a pulpy mass under the wrath of the Terminators.

The shockwave cleared out a large space around Marcus and his squad, allowing us to move forward and pour an unrelenting stream of bolter fire into the ranks of the infected. I heard the familiar whine of a plasma cannon charging up, and moments later, a massive ball of sheer energy shot past, lighting up the night and almost searing the skin on my face.

The plasma cannon round smacked directly into the massive chest of one of the large, muscular creatures, blowing a clean hole through the chords of muscle and flesh, searing its wounds shut. The beast's momentum kept it going for several paces, until the life left it and it crashed to the ground at Marcus's feet.

The chaplain glanced up from the massive corpse, eyeing the mass of corpses and bloody pulps.

"That was it?" He said, voice dripping with scorn. "How the frak did we get into this shit-storm in the first place?"

"We know more about our enemy then we did the first time, brother." I said. "Let us not get complacent."

Marcus waved an arm in irritation and hefted his Crozius.

"Make for the hospital brothers," I ordered. "Time for us to leave this hell-hole."

The entrance to the hospital was surrounded by the rest of my Terminator squad. Brother Horx saluted as we approached, his armor splattered with gore.

"Brother Librarian," he said. "We took the liberty of clearing out most of the hospital in your absence. We haven't managed to clean out every room, but we shall be able to move through the building without much resistance. The supplies and weapons we have received have been moved to the rooftop. We encountered a little more…resistance there."

I allowed a small smile and clapped Horx on his shoulder pad.

"The four of you have done remarkably well in our absence, brother." I said. "Join up with us, head to the top of the building. We shall call for extraction then."

Horx glanced at the marines around us.

"What happened to the others?"

I struggled to keep my face calm.

"They have been lost, brother." I said. "Those here are those we managed to locate. We shall return to exact harsh vengeance later."

Horx nodded, and rejoined his squadmates. I lead the way into the hospital, which, oddly enough, was still powered. Lights flickered through the incredibly narrow hallways, which forced us to move in single file. The Terminators found it especially hard to move through certain corridors, their shoulder plates scraping on the thin walls.

I hated the corridors, any sudden attack from the sides would prove to be disastrous, especially if we met any more of the large beasts. But Brother Horx did his work well, other than a few infected, we encountered almost no resistance.

Our journey through the hospital was mostly uneventful, the marines moving in a silence that bordered on dejection. After what I had seen so far, they were in need of motivation, and fast. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a flicker coming from a small room. I paused, raising an eyebrow. The other marines behind me stopped too, their curiosity mingling with uncertainty. _Has the Librarian's mind finally cracked?_

I stepped into the room, bending down slightly as I entered the small space, gesturing for the marines to move on as I did. They did so gladly, if a little too quickly. Space Marines in our chapter still had a strong unease for psykers under their banner, an opinion that I hadn't bothered to change.

The source of the flickering came from what I presumed passed for the info-terminals in this time. Apparently the terminal's former users had forgotten to turn it off. What attracted me in the first place was not the flickering, but rather the nudge my psychic sense was giving me towards the terminal.

It could give us information to what really happened in this frak-hole. I glanced upwards, looking at the single-file line of marines heading through the corridors, eyes and mind searching for what I needed. Eyes won first, I saw the familiar steel-grey coloring of a Techmarine initiate, or at least an aspiring Techmarine, according to Techmarine Ondius, regarding this particular marine.

"Brother Ulran!" I called out. The marine froze, and reluctantly turned in my direction.

"I have need of your skills, brother. I hear they are quite exemplary."

Ulran, both flattered and slightly eager, moved into the room. I pointed to the terminal.

"I need all the information you can get from this thing, everything."

If Ulran showed any signs of surprise at the strange request, he hid it surprisingly well. He bent over the terminal eagerly, like a child with a new toy, pored over the screen's display. He removed his gauntlets, and began typing on the keyboard. He withdrew a small probe from his armor and looked around the terminal for an input. He cursed to himself when he found the small box attached to the terminal that apparently, was responsible for its power.

After much cursing and difficulty in maneuvering himself to attach the probe to the terminal's input, Ulran knelt before the screen and began to search through the terminal's contents.

"This is fascinating." He muttered, almost to himself. I cringed inwardly at his similarity to the self-indulgent Techpriests. "Very interesting."

"What is?" I asked.

He turned and stared at me for a second, as if only just registering my presence. Which means whatever the terminal held, it was very important.

"This terminal, much like any of our own, is linked to outside elements, in our case, other terminals. They constantly share information, providing a continuous stream of information, accessible by anyone on any terminal."

"What makes this one so different?"

"This one, is linked to one massive entity, I believe they call it the Internet. Similar to our vox-nets, to keep commanders supplied with constant information. This one however, is limitless, uncensored, it knows no bounds!"

"Slow down a bit, brother," I said, trying to comprehend his meaning. "You're talking about information, what kind of information?"

Ulran glanced up excitedly, his helmet resting on his belt.

"Everything! Limitless information concerning everything, from life in these primitive times, to odd forms of entertainment, to…well, everything. The display changed to something else, and Ulran wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Apparently, it includes a whole lot of junk as well." He added. "This would be considered high heresy by the Inquisition." He glanced up at me, wonder in his eyes. "This kind of information, distributed amongst the common masses, how can it be that this civilization has not torn itself apart?"

I didn't know the answer to that question.

"Maybe it already has." I said.

"Brother Librarian, should we still interact with this machine? It may contain heretical knowledge."

"There is a thin line between information and heresy, brother," I said. "Do not let it cloud your judgment. Search for anything related to this recent…event."

Ulran nodded, visibly digesting my words. After a moment, he glanced up again.

"I found it, sir." He said. "Not much about it know, their government called it the 'Infection', there are a smattering of reports, government warnings, even a few civilian writings, but not much beyond that, I would assume that they were all infected at this point."

I nodded.

"Any evidence of the Great Enemy?"

He frowned, then shook his head.

"Not that I know of, no rituals, no evidence of sorcery or oddities." He glanced up in confusion at me. "Sir, is there something we should know?"

My next words had to be very careful. We had told the marines that the forces of Chaos had corrupted the city, my subsequent discoveries had been kept to myself, not even Marcus knew, that this infection was not of Chaos.

"The enemy works in mysterious ways, brother Ulran, not all which are easily identifiable. Which is why we need the information, to learn more, and better yet, counter them."

The marine nodded, reassured.

_Works every time._

"Copy all the date about this infection, can you copy the whole of this 'internet' as well?"

Ulran gawked.

"Sir, the scale of this entire thing is massive, immeasurable! Even with our most advanced machine cloning rituals, it would take us days, weeks even to copy everything."

I nodded, and crossed my arms.

"Find what you can about the infection, copy it all, on a side note, find what you can concerning all of these people's lives, their culture, essentially, and even their technology, if you can. It would be invaluable."

Ulran nodded.

"Yes Brother." He said, and re-submerged himself into the terminal.

"How long would it take?"

"If this terminal's Machine Spirit co-operates, and with the right date-rituals, maybe a few hours."

We didn't have a few hours, but then again, the retrieval could wait a little longer.

"Make it faster, brother."

"I'll try." Ulran didn't even glance up.

I moved for the exit, my mind already on the impending retrieval beacon on the roof of this hospital. I would have to post guards around Ulran, so he would not have too much difficulty heading back to the roof once he was done.

The end was almost near, and we would return again in force, to put an end to this infection that had claimed so many of my brothers.

**

* * *

**

**2300 hours, Fairfield City, Sewers. Devastator Darius Onduit, one hour before activation of the Attractor Beacon.**

"So, Darius," Louis said. "Tell us where you're from again?"

"Aww Christ, Louis," Francis interjected. "Don't get him started again."

"I come from the Imperium of Man," I replied, ignoring Francis, something that was becoming easier and easier to do. "From the 41st Millennium, where our Immortal God-Emperor watches over all of mankind, and delivers swift justice to the foul Xenos and Heretics."

The silence was palpable. For once, I felt slightly weird while intoning the words of Chaplain Marcus himself, minus the colorful expressions.

"I guess that means very far away." Zoey broke the silence.

The journey through the sewers of the city were…messy at best. Not being able to fit into the ridiculously small manhole, I had to remove my armor, dropping it down the hole where the others were waiting. Even with the black undersuit I wore beneath the armor, I proved to be a tight fit. But eventually, after lots of squeezing and a lot of pulling on the survivors' side, I managed to drop down into the sewers.

"Yes." I said. "Or at least in the very far future."

"Then how the hell did you end up here?" Bill asked, the scent of his cigar piercing through the ripe dank smell of the sewers.

"A warp-storm sent our battle-barge into another period of time, I myself do not fully understand how that has happened."

Bill rolled his eyes, while Zoey looked slightly interested.

"Like the stuff from the movies." She said.

"Heck," Francis said. "You believe all this shit about space men from the future?"

"Hey, we're in the middle of a fucking zombie apocalypse! How hard will future space men be to believe?" Zoey countered. "Sides' after what's happened, I'll believe anything by now."

"Eyes up!" Bill cautioned.

The survivors snapped up their weapons as a new wave of zombies came running towards us, snarling with rage. I took point, a large metal rod in my hands. None of the weapons that the survivors had could fit me, having finger guards too small for my hands. A shame, but unavoidable. As a result, the steel bar in my hand was the third one I've gone through.

"Smoker!" Francis called out, swing his shotgun around to blow three other infected out of their shoes.

"Can't get a bead on him!" Bill yelled, his rifle barking.

I glanced around, and saw the sneaky bastard lurking in the background, in the darkness of the sewers. No darkness is safe from a space marine. I hurled the pipe with all my might, using it as a spear. I was glad to see that the years of using the heavy bolter did not diminish my accuracy. The pipe smashed into the lanky frame of the Smoker, causing it to erupt in a large puff of smoke and ragged flesh.

"Score one for the big space man!" Zoey laughed.

Despite myself, I grinned. I missed my battle brothers, especially listening to Polus's random mimicking of the chaplain that we all served under. But the survivors had their own sense of humor too, some of it was, truth be told, rather refreshing.

The horde died out again, as it had for the hundredth time.

"I'll need a new pipe." I remarked.

Louis chuckled.

"That makes it the forth one?"

"Third."

"We need ten more of him, Bill," Louis laughed. "That way, crossing the damn street won't be such a bitch after all."

Francis made a disagreeing gesture with his finger. One which I choose not to see. As much as I liked to pound the little arrogant frakker to the ground, I have to admit, he has proven to be remarkable useful.

"C'mon," Bill urged. "Let's go, the safe house shouldn't be that far away."

"There's a safe house in this pit?" I asked.

"No, above."

"Emperor deliver me from more small spaces." I muttered.

"Cheer up, tin man." Zoey laughed. "If we can get you down here, we can get you back up."

I glanced at the other survivors. They seemed quite beaten up, and it was not the scratches and bruises from being knocked around. Bill had dark rings around his eyes, and Louis looked as if he might drop any moment. Francis was visibly shrugging off his fatigue, and Zoey looked very tired, her eyes shining with determination.

They needed rest, and fast.

"This way," Bill said, heading down another tunnel, trying to stay out of the green sludge in the middle of the tunnel. By the Emperor, it stank worse than Orks. The tunnels seemed the same to me, how Bill was able to navigate the way was beyond me. "The safe house should be just above this area."

Bill rounded the corner, and ran right into a Boomer, which threw up on him. He gave out a yell and fell backwards, firing his weapon out of pure reflex. The Boomer exploded in a fleshy mess, splattering us with its filth.

If my battle brothers could see me now. On the other hand, it would be better if they didn't.

The horde screamed again, and I could see masses of zombies pouring out from the dark recesses of the sewers. The survivors knew what they were doing too, huddling into a tight formation, they poured fire in all directions, cutting down the infected even though half-blinded by the foul bodily fluids of the creature.

I wiped the puke out of my eyes, and began smashing enemies left and right with my fists. Infected flesh crumbled like soft mush underneath my gauntlets, I almost didn't hear the Hunter over the screaming. It shot right past me and slammed into Zoey, pinning her to the ground as it began tearing chunks from her. It didn't last long however, as I peeled it off Zoey and held it up as the combined fire from Bill, Francis and Louis tore it apart.

"Move!" Bill shouted, helping Zoey up while the others covered him. I picked up several zombies and hurled them at their foul kin, sending the mass reeling backwards while combined fire from the survivors finished them off.

"Hey, you alright kid? Don't give up on me now, we're almost there." Bill said to Zoey, supporting her weight.

"I'm fine Bill, just winded, that's all." She said. That wasn't true, of course, she was bleeding, not freely, thank the Emperor, but her face had gone pale, more out of shock then actual wounds. She shrugged out of Bill's grasp, and shook her head.

"Let's keep moving." She said, determined.

We reached the ladder to the surface without much further resistance, with Louis and Francis climbing up the ladder first to secure the area above.

"Start strippin' space man," Francis remarked with a smirk as he disappeared up the ladder. I scowled as I started removing the heavy plates, stacking them up neatly so that Louis could receive them from the top. I started passing bits of the armor to Louis and Francis up top, having to squeeze the larger pieces through.

I had never been in a combat zone without my armor before, and to be frank, I felt naked. No doubt I could still crush the zombies without it, but it still felt, different. I didn't like it.

Almost as if the Emperor was testing me, I heard the familiar scream of a Hunter just as it pounced, arms outstretched. Before I could make a grab at it, a bark from Zoey's hunting rifle brought its' foul life to a quick, abrupt end.

I nodded a quick thanks to Zoey before I ascended myself, using more of the stone walls for my grip rather than the ladder, which I feared I might break. I glanced up and saw the outstretched hands of Francis. I gripped them firmly as he began hauling me up, slowly pulling me up through the manhole. First my head, then my shoulders came free. With my arms being able to move again, I gripped the edges of the hole and pushed myself up. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Louis suppressing a grin while he covered Francis.

_Now would be a very bad time for a horde attack._

After what seemed like ages, I finally pulled free of the manhole. I swore a solemn oath to the Emperor that I'd never go anywhere near that manhole again. If I did, I'd borrow one of the Terminators' Thunder Hammers first. I began pulling on my armor again as Bill and Zoey came up with ridiculous ease. Louis was grinning from ear to ear.

"I should've got that on tape." He said.

"Mercy Hospital at last," Zoey said with relief.

I glanced up at the immense building that was before us, it was at least twenty stories high, with the green glow of the cross and the massive words of the hospital's name at the top with a rather sinister glow.

"Lemme guess, Francis," Zoey said as we slowly made our way towards the hospital. "You hate hospitals too?"

"Yep, vans too." Francis glanced at the ambulance with its flashing lights that reminded me of a Praetor's vehicle.

"That's an ambulance, Francis. An ambulance!" Zoey sighed, exasperated.

"I hate ambulances."

Even stony-faced Bill cracked a rare smile as Louis and Zoey laughed.

"Let's go," Bill said. "Before the storm comes and kicks the shit out of us." It took me a while to realize that he meant the zombies.

As we approached the entrance to the hospital, I could see a massive pile of bodies piling up at the entrance. Corpses were left mutilated where they fell, and even a few tanks were spotted amongst the dead, their muscled bodies torn apart.

"Holy shit." Bill muttered, the cigar in his mouth quivering slightly.

"Wow." Zoey said.

Even in the midst of the chaos, the effects of bolter fire on the zombies was unmistakable. So was the craters left by none other than Thunder Hammers. Excitement surged through my veins. My fellow marines were here! I could rejoin my Chapter at long last, and truly avenge my brothers.

"Rule 26 of the Zombie Survival Guide," Zoey quipped. "If there's something larger and more baddass than a couple of tanks in the hospital, then stay away from the hospital."

"We have a Zombie Survival Guide?" Louis asked.

"Nope," she said. "Just sayin'."

"These corpses," I said. "Were left by my brothers. They were here."

They gawped for a moment.

"Rule 27 of the Zombie Survival Guide," Zoey added. "Ignore Rule 26."

"Uh, guys." Francis said, an edge entering his voice. My head snapped up too, hearing what he saw. "I think we've got a bigger problem than the space man's relatives."

We turned around, and even I had problems believing what I just saw.

During my time back in the 41st Millennium, I have seen and fought my fair share of Orks, and I have witnessed the immense numbers that they can bring to bear in a matter of weeks. However, what I saw before me now would put any Warboss to shame. In fact, what I saw before me now would be what happened if you took a Warboss, stuck him in the middle of an Ork jungle, and left him and his army there for a decade.

Except that this time, those were not Orks. Thousands of zombies, tens of thousands, all running towards us in a seething fury, amongst the seething throng of foul flesh, the massive silhouettes of several Tanks were visible, as were the numerous Hunters leaping from building to building. Hundreds of special infected, tens of thousands of zombies.

_Oh shit._

I took in all this information in a second, it took the others a little longer than that, although the screaming of the zombies shook them out of their shock. I saw Zoey glance towards the gaping double-doors of the hospital, which suddenly seemed like the most welcoming thing in this frakked up city.

"No way we're making it there in time!" Bill shouted, saying what I had been thinking. "Move it! There's another building right behind us!"

He was right, the entire frakking horde of zombies were almost on top of us, I could feel their furious stares boring into mine. A tide of filth washing over a bastion of faith and strength.

"Get crackin!" Francis yelled, already running after Bill. I waited until Louis and Zoey ran past me, then turned and followed suit, moving away from the hospital and towards the dark entrance of the building that Bill ran into.

I swung out an armored arm, smashing back the nearest infected. More took their place in an instant, I was in danger of being swarmed. Turning, I ran at full speed, easily increasing the distance between me and the zombies. Several of the more hard-headed Chapters would've scorned at my actions, but unlike them, I knew that I would serve no purpose to the Emperor being dead.

I might have easily outran the horde, but the others did not have the same advantages that I did. Louis, either it was the wounds or the lack of proper rest, I could not be sure, but one thing I did know, he would never make it to the safe house alive. So I caught up to him, grabbed him with one arm and flung him towards the safe house, landing roughly at its entrance, where he was hauled in by the survivors.

"Come on, Darius!" Zoey shouted, waving an arm towards me while the other poured in covering fire. It was hard to do so with my immense frame blocking their line of sight, but with the even larger horde behind me, it was hard to miss anything.

I reached the safe house and dove in, Zoey slamming the door behind me and bolting it. The zombies slammed their fists into the door, but the survivors had already barricaded it with everything they could find. Francis and Louis even threw their own weight into the door, holding against the oncoming horde. If even one of the tanks decided to try and knock instead, no amount of barricades will help.

Mercifully, none came, and after a while, the pounding subsided. Although the screaming did not stop.

"They've stopped." Zoey whispered.

"Why?" Louis, out of breath.

"They're after something else." Bill said. His cigar light seemed unusually bright, then I realized, we were in complete darkness. The power did not work in this building, and no one dared to turn on their flashlights. The sound, it could drive someone insane.

The sound of thousands of infected running and raging towards, towards what, I did not know, but something was drawing their ire, and it wasn't us.

Then it struck me, they were after my brothers. I stomped over to the nearest window, one which was not overly barricaded, and peered through it. True enough, the infected were pouring through the entrance to Mercy Hospital, some were even trying to scale the walls of the hospital, like putrid ants swarming up their prey. Tanks crushed any infected in their way, barreling with single-minded determination towards the hospital.

Towards my brothers.

"Jesus Christ," Francis whistled, joining me at the window. "Looks like someone stepped on the fucking ant hill."

"Who the hell are they after?" Zoey asked.

"My brothers." I replied, although the answer to the real question remained unknown.

The survivors huddled in a corner, shivering slightly. Most of the furniture had been used to barricade the doors and windows. The building had more than one floor, thankfully, all of them were clear of infected.

Bill was wrong, the storm had already come, and there was nothing we could do about it.

_._


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys, thanks for your patience. Anonymous reviewer, thanks a lot for pointing out mistakes that I did not even realize were there, it certainly helped :) I hope I have addressed it in the next chapter. This chapter is rather short, more of a connection to the next one. Your reception has bee awesome guys, cheers! Hope you enjoy this one. The final chapter is in progression :) Hopefully, we won't have to wait long!**

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****2300 hours, Outside Mercy Hospital, Devastator Darius Onduit, 40 minutes after activation of the attractor beacon.**

The one thing I noticed about being in close quarters with the infected for a long period of time was oddly enough, the smell. The noise they made was horrific enough, for sure, but after spending the what seemed like days shooting, punching and stomping them to shreds, the noise more or less filtered out of my head.

What I couldn't filter out was the smell.

It was the stench of death, or rather, the smell of a dead human, left in the open for days, buried for two weeks, then dug up again, as I've had the misfortune of finding out firsthand before I had earned my power armor.

Worse, I felt completely helpless to stop them, it was as if the forces or the Plague God had swept across the world, and us, the Emperor's Mailed Fist, had failed. It was a thought that I could barely fathom.

Francis was slumped in a corner, snoring softly. Of all the four, he seemed the most calm about the horde raging just a few feet away from them, with only a few inches of wall between them and death. Perhaps I had misjudged him sorely, the man did have his qualities, many of which were quite useful.

Didn't mean that I like him any more then when I first tried to kill him.

Louis lay down with his back against the wall, his legs drawn up to his chest, head buried in between. Whether he was asleep or just plain afraid I did not know.

Zoey was curled up next to Bill, her head resting on the old man's shoulder. Her wounds needed dressing after being mauled by the Hunter. Francis had pointed out to her, rather gleefully, that she could not dress her wounds with her sweatshirt still sticking to the cuts on her body. As a result of his mouth, we all ended up with our backs turned, facing the blank wall as she handed Bill the first aid kit, who she seemed to trust a great deal. Why I was one of the ones facing the wall, I did not understand, as she did not seem to understand that we Space Marines were simply not interested in things like that. We had far more important things to do.

Important, but much less fun. I remember spouting that line when I entered the Initiates' muster hall for the first time. My to-be battle-brothers had snickered, Brother Polus amongst them, but unfortunately for me, Chaplain Marcus was just round the corner.

I never forgot that flogging. By the Emperor, that man could hit hard.

I almost laughed aloud at my foolishness back then, when I was still unenlightened by the Emperor's wisdom, parts of my life that I could barely remember, parts that I tried hard to forget. I stood up from my crouch, picking up one of the weapons from the table nearby. It was Bill's assault rifle. Only a little different from our bolters, yet, it seemed to do its job remarkably well, its' power even surpassing that of the lasgun. I quietly performed the Rituals of Placation and Maintenance for the weapon. It might not have a machine spirit like we know, but all the same, I felt that it would perform better.

One by one, I picked up the weapons that my ad hoc allies had used and performed the ritual for each one, just like I used to do for my own weapons. Zoey's pistols and her hunting rifle, Louis's submachine gun, and even Francis's shotgun. I supposed, at that moment, it was my way of wishing them good luck. For surviving this far, and also for what would come.

Bill stirred and woke, his eyes flicking open. He gently pried Zoey from his shoulder and laid her down on the floor, using his backpack as a makeshift support for her head. He rose, stretching and walked towards me.

By now, we were all used to the noise the horde/army outside was making. We even could speak in normal tones now, as the infected were focused on another thing entirely. I still did not know what had happened in Mercy Hospital, and the lack of information was making me very angry.

"Couldn't sleep, kid?" He asked, even though I was probably older than him by at almost a decade. But by then I knew him well enough to know that he meant well, so I let it fly.

"Space Marines can do without sleep for days on end," I told him. "I'll survive." It was true, our metabolisms allowed us to go on for days on end without sleep. If need be, I could even 'turn off' several important parts of my brain, remaining fully alert while I rested.

"I couldn't." He admitted, looking at the rapidly shifting shadows through the window that we barricaded. "Slept like a baby during the Nam' with the enemy right under our noses, but not this one. Must'a be the age or somethin."

"In times where our faith is sorely tested, we must put our faith in the Emperor, for He alone can deliver us from this evil." I responded automatically without even thinking.

Bill gave me an odd look.

"Son," he sighed. "I've been around long enough to know that if there's a God out there, he's done looking out fer us." He gestured at the horde. "Why'd He let this happen then? Force people to kill their own mamas when they became fucking zombies."

"But the Emperor-"

"Jesus, Buddha, Muhammad, Emperor, call it what you want. Your brains and your muscles were the things that got you here so far. You wanna live? Do it yourself." He paused for a moment, then added in a gentler note. "You got a good head on your shoulders, son, gotta learn to use it sometime."

For the first time, I heard something like that without feeling the righteous rage that usually come from listening from such heretical twaddle. Perhaps it was the fact that the Emperor had not spread His word yet, or maybe, just maybe, Bill had a point.

The thought was too terrible to consider, so I pushed it as deep down as possible and resolved to see the Chaplain for confession if I made it out of this hell-hole.

"You got a plan to get us out of here, old man?" I asked. "Or do we just throw open those doors and go down in a blaze of glory?" Hours of listening to Zoey quote lines from the movies she watches are starting to rub off.

He snorted.

"It'll make a great movie, but won't be much use when we're all dead." He jerked his head towards the series of stairs just around the wall. "Come over here," he said."I got somethin to show ya."

I followed him up the stairs, my ceramite boots slightly cracking the stone steps. I emerged into the clear night sky, which is as clear as it can get with all the frakking zombies swarming up the sides of the smaller buildings. They reminded me of ants, swarming up their targets, ignoring anything in their path.

Bill stood at the edge of the roof, keeping a wary eye on the swarm below, smoke wafting from the lit cigar in his mouth. He directed his gaze skywards, up towards the immense tower that was Mercy Hospital.

"I'm not one for wishful thinkin," he said, gesturing with his head. "but I think that someone's in there."

I followed his gaze, and true enough, I spotted it. The numerous floors of the hospital were filled with hundreds of windows, each one neatly aligned to each other. Most of those windows were black and empty, the life long gone from the room behind it. Some glowed a bright yellow, the lights still on. One was inhabited.

"Can you see what's in that?" Bill asked, deferring to my greater sight. I strained my eyes, autosenses automatically zoning in on the window. A surge of excitement went through my body. Within the window was the unmistakable hulk of a space marine, the familiar white of my Chapter was possibly the most reassuring thing I have seen today.

"A battle-brother!" I exclaimed, not even trying to hide my exultation. "They're still in the hospital! I have to get to them!"

"Calm down, son." Bill cut through my initiate-like babbling with a steady voice. "We ain't got no way of getting there. Unless your buddies can fly, we're stuck here. Sides', there's no way they can hear us over all this noise." He turned to me. "But they do have a plan for getting outta this shit-hole, right?"

I wasn't so sure. From what we have learned as initiates, my fellow Astartes were more inclined to put up a glorious last stand rather than retreat from battle. But the marines of my Chapter were far more tactically adept and less prone to suicidal stands then some other Chapters.

Doesn't mean it's never happened before.

Bill was right though, even if it were quiet, there was only a slim chance that the marine in the window would hear us. With the sound of tens of thousands infected screaming their hate, no way we would be heard.

_Unless…_

I turned around so abruptly that Bill glanced at me in alarm, perhaps wondering if the big man in the tin suit had finally snapped.

"Wake the others." I said, "I have an idea." Before the man could question me, I ran down the stairs, catching sight of the three sleeping survivors. Ignoring the two nearest, I ran towards the one I needed.

"Zoey!," I hissed, bending over her prone form. "Hey Zoey! By The Emperor, wake the frak up!"

Her eyes blinked open, staring at my faced unfocussed for several seconds. Then she shot up, eyes wide, yelping.

"Jeez, Darius." She mumbled after recovering. "Stop doing that."

I briefly wondered what she meant when Louis sat up, smiling slightly.

"Waking up inches from your face in the middle of a zombie apocalypse probably isn't the most pleasant thing to notice, apart from the zombies, of course. No offence, of course."

I knew he was jesting, so I let him live.

I grabbed her hunting rifle from the table and tossed it to her. Bill and the others might be good shots themselves, but I have seen Zoey with a hunting rifle, by the Emperor, the kid was good.

She grabbed it and gave me a quizzical look.

"You're not considering a glorious banzai charge out the door, are you?"

I shook my head.

"The Tin Man's got a plan to get us outta here." Bill announced, giving the snoring Francis a furious kick. The biker let loose a stream of profanities that would have impressed Chaplain Marcus and sat up.

"Normally, that would be something to worry about," Bill continued. "But this time, we're outta options. Get spruced up, we're headin' topside."

"Yes sir…" Louis muttered under his breath, drawing a large grin from Zoey.

After a series of mumbled swearing and getting in each other's way, the three survivors joined Bill and me on the roof of our tiny building. The lights of the window, I noted thankfully, were still on, the marine still in that room.

"That another tin man?" Francis asked.

I nodded.

"Oh shit." He turned to Bill. "Sure joining his buddies won't get us all killed?"

Bill scowled.

"You gotta better plan, smartass?"

Francis growled something under his breath, then shook his head.

I pointed to the window, turning to Zoey.

"That marine in the window, I want you to shoot him."

She gawped at me, jaw dropping.

"What?" She sputtered. "Are you insane?"

"His armor will take it." I reassured her. "Just get his attention. They've been fighting zombies all this while, he'll notice a bullet being fired at him."

Zoey shrugged.

"If he starts to rage at being shot," she said. "I'm standing behind you."

"Shoot."

She raised the rifle, sighted, and pulled the trigger. The rifle barked, sending a round through the window and slamming into the marine. The results were amusing. The marine dropped, an instinctive reaction when taking fire, then realized that he was too large to be shielded by the walls. He spun around, bolter in hand.

"Take cover!" I shouted. "Get down!." My armor could take the fire, or at least some of it. But unprotected human flesh didn't have a prayer.

I waved my arms as far as my shoulder pads would allow me to, while shouting at my best war cry voice. A few bolt rounds pinged off the concrete around us, but then the firing stopped. The marine stuck his head out of the window, no mean feat some someone of our size.

"Brother Ulran!" I shouted, my autosenses picking out the marine in the distance. I was thoroughly surprised at the sight of the tech-marine initiate to-be. I had thought he had fallen with the rest of my squad. My words were swallowed up by the screeching horde, I wondered how far had they infested the hospital, and how much time did Ulran have before the zombies reached him.

I knew he couldn't hear me, so I signaled the hand gesture for extraction, praying to the Emperor that he could find a way of getting us out. Ulran gave me a thumbs up, held out an open palm, and disappeared back into the room.

"That went well." Francis muttered.

"At least he stopped shooting at us." Zoey said.

"Five minutes," I said. "Brother Ulran will get us out of here. I fantasized at having a Thunderhawk gunship swoop down to pick us up, and mentally kicked myself for such selfishness. The gunships were needed somewhere else, but come to mention it, I have seen none in the skies.

"He's taking some time," Louis muttered, his voice laced with tension.

Bill glanced at me, eyes raised in question. I ignored them both.

Moments later, Ulran popped back out of the window. He gave us a thumbs up again, he seemed quite cheerful.

"What the fuck's that supposed to mean?" Francis said.

"It usually means that he's got a way to get us outta here." Bill said.

"Is it just me, or is it getting rather cold?" Zoey said, rubbing her arms. She was right, but it was not cold. It was a tingle in the atmosphere, white flecks of energy began to flicker directly in front of me.

Knowing what was coming, I motioned the survivors back, which they complied eagerly.

"Weird shit…"Francis muttered. "Zombies, space men, and now fucking magic."

"Not sorcery," I hissed. "Technology."

As if on cue, the air in front of us cracked with the sound of displaced air, and a fully armored Terminator appeared, tall and hulking, the Emperor's finest in all its glory.

"Holy shit." Louis managed to say, while the others gawped at the newcomer in shock and awe.

While not much taller than me, the Terminator practically dwarfed all four of the survivors put together, his power fist almost as large as Louis's torso. His armor radiated an aura of might and glory that the enemies of the Emperor only knew too well. Failing that, the storm bolter at his side served to reinforce that image.

"Brother." I greeted. "The Emperor has graced us with His blessings at last."

The Terminator snorted, his voice deep and inhuman when projected through his helmet.

"Tell that to Brother Alexis." He produced a large box from his armor. It was crudely wired, and it glowed slightly, as if an Ork tried to improvise on a piece of metal slag. "I see you've made friends."

I nodded.

"They've proved their mettle many times over. They'll be invaluable aiding us."

"We need no aid," the Terminator said. "Civilians being the sort of aid we do not need."

"They've survived where many of us have not." I replied, rising to defend my ad hoc allies. "What they know of the enemy will prove invaluable."

The massive marine shrugged, no mean feat for someone in Terminator Armor.

"Bring them along if you wish then." He said, sounding like an elder brother humoring his smaller sibling. "Take hold of this." He held out the box.

I gripped the box with one gauntlet, while the others held on to it too, knuckles white around the metal. The Terminator chuckled at their apprehension.

"You might want to brace yourselves, the sacrament of teleportation can be…uncomfortable to some."

The air crackled again, and with a lurching jolt, I found myself looking at a very surprised Brother Ulran.

"Darius!" He exclaimed. "We thought you had fallen! The Emperor has spared you, it seems. I see my invention worked."

"I had thought the same too, brother. I heard your guns fall silent when I was separated from my squad. I feared the worst."

Ulran grinned while the Terminator stomped out of the room to join his brother.

"His Emperor's Space Marines do not fall so easily, brother." He turned to the survivors. "I see you've brought some guests."

Francis had found a corner to himself and was too busy throwing up to respond. Zoey looked pale, and on the verge of joining Francis. Louis was leaning on the wall, his gun in one hand. Even Bill seemed slightly shaken, although he was focused on the both of us.

"A commendable feat for making it this far, civilian." Ulran nodded in greeting. "Although I have to say, your presence might just complicate matters just a bit."

"How?" Bill said, narrowing his eyes.

Ulran was interrupted by the bark of storm bolter fire coming from the corridor outside, the bark was quickly swallowed by the howling of infected. Moments later, another Terminator which I took to be Brother Alexis from a large square hole in the back of his armor, presumably where Ulran had acquired his ad hoc teleporting device. His face was unreadable, but he didn't sound pleased.

"We've leaving, either move with us, or we'll drag you."

Ulran nodded, unperturbed by the larger marine.

"Keep up with us then, civilians. Be aware that we won't stop for you if you fall."

"They are more than capable." I said as we moved out of the room, Ulran slipping several sheaves of dataslates into his armor compartments as we left. The horde had caught up with us at last, the two Terminators managing to hold them off at the moment with their storm bolters.

"Move!" Alexis shouted, his inhuman voice barely heard over all the screaming. When the infected came, it was not the usual mass of running madmen. This time, it was a carpet of foul flesh, the undead trampling each other in their frenzy to reach us. I had difficulty making out single zombies from the sheer wave of infected.

The four survivors broke into a run, the massive bulk of the Terminators making it impossible for them to fire at the undead, even if they could, it would not have mattered anyway. Ulran, clearly aware of that fact, was following suit, leaving the Terminators to handle the mob.

Storm bolters were terrifying weapons in tight spaces, the double barrels of the weapons capable of tearing through all but the strongest armor. The bolts tore through the mob, covering the entire corridor with putrid blood and bits of flesh in an instant. The Terminators, however, were at a disadvantage. Only one of them could fire without hitting each other, and the mob was unrelenting despite the salvo of bolter rounds from brother Alexis.

"Go!" The other Terminator shouted. "We'll hold them off. Get the dataslates to Librarian Niveh!"

"Your bravery will be honored, brothers." Ulran said solemnly.

"Can't honor us if you're dead," Alexis snapped. "Move!"

We broke into a sprint, almost pushing the survivors ahead of us as we ran. I looked back to see both marines holding off the swarm. Alexis raised his power fist and slammed it into the nearest infected. The shockwave of energy rippled through the mob, liquefying those unlucky enough to be close. The walls shattered at the impact, allowing the infected to swarm around the gapes in the wall, swallowing the Terminators in a sea of flesh.

Their weapons still booming, I ran with renewed vigor, overtaking the survivors in the process. Ulran had already taken the lead, moving up the floors to get to the rooftop. I lagged behind slightly, letting them catch up.

Ulran rounded a corner, and almost ran into another marine, who almost impaled him on his chainsword. I caught up with them, the others pausing at the sight of more 'tin cans', and catching their breath at the same time.

"By the Emperor! What are you doing here?" The marine with the chainsword exclaimed, the other two marines staring at the survivors and at me.

"Talk later." Ulran said, already moving past them. "The horde is right behind us."

"Time to detonate the charges then." The marine declared, holding a remote detonator in his gauntlet. Several packs of explosives were lain carefully around the area.

Ulran had already taken off, his apparent desire at handing over something to the librarian overcoming everything else. Fortunately for him, he didn't have to run far, as the librarian himself stepped around the other corner. The Techmarine initiate, caught between the instinctive urge to move as far away from the librarian as possible, as well as his priority to deliver his dataslates to him as soon as possible, performed a small half-pivot, as if checking his movements.

"That can wait for now," Librarian Niveh said.

My attention was not focused on the librarian, however, but on the devastator that flanked him.

"Darius!" Ehphrus exclaimed, and moved over to clap me on the back, then remembered that both his hands were on his heavy bolter. So he offered a grin instead.

"The Emperor smiles on us all with your survival!" He said, Larx giving me a thumbs up at his side.

My reply was drowned out by the screaming of the mob, which had already caught up with us. The two other marines were already firing their bolters down the corridor.

"Holy Emperor!" One exclaimed. "There's a lot of them."

"Time to move." Niveh ordered, voice calm. "Brother Tharn, detonate the charges."

The chainsword-wielding marine chivvied his squadmates away from the corridors, tossed a grenade down for good measure, and started to follow the Librarian. They ignored the survivors, and were clearly intending to leave them behind.

I paused, on the verge of calling out to the Librarian. He stopped, urging the others on.

"Bring them along," he said without turning. "They will be useful."

I turned to the survivors, and flashed them a thumbs up.

"C'mon guys," I said. "Let's get going."

Niveh turned and gave me an odd look, then nodded to Tharn. The marine gestured at me to keep moving, he turned and raised the detonator, just as a tank crashed through a nearby wall and smashed into him. The detonator skidded away from his grip, coming to rest near one of the explosive packs.

Directly in the path of the oncoming horde.

The Librarian hurled a bolt of white energy from his staff at the tank, his fury blowing a hole in the tank's muscled chest, while Ehphrus finished it off with his heavy bolter with combined fire from Larx.

"Ignore the charges, just run!" He ordered. "Go, brothers! Not one more of us falls!"

As my brothers turned and ran, I moved to follow suit, overtaking the exhausted survivors as I did. I saw Zoey's eyes, alight with fear, lending her strength that she never would have been able to summon on her own. Bill, ignoring his wounds and his age, trying his best to keep up. They never stood a chance to compete against the augmented muscles of a Space Marine on their best day, let alone while they were battered and tired.

As I ran, I saw Zoey stumble and fall, shouting in fear as Francis and Bill moved to help her up. They were not going to make it.

"Come on, Darius!" Ehphrus shouted from the rooftop entrance.

I turned back to look at my friends, who were trying valiantly to keep ahead of the horde, Louis yelling profanities while firing his submachine gun on full auto. A psychic blast from Niveh kept the horde in check for mere moments, buying them some time, but not enough.

With a sudden burst of clarity, I knew exactly what I was going to do. The Librarian's assault may not have bought the survivors enough time to escape, but it certainly bought me enough. Enough time to turn around and run past the survivors, enough time to plough through the scattered horde and roll to my feet, enough time to pick up the detonator.

"Darius!" Zoey turned, Bill and Francis pushing her along. Bill caught my eye and nodded once.

"Go!" I shouted. I turned back to the regrouping horde, which now came for me, screaming in hate.

"Deliver me, my Emperor, from the face of the foul, and the taint of fear. I am a Space Marine, and I shall know no fear," the horde was on me now, pulling at the core of my faith. I smiled, not bothering to fight back. Yes, enough time.

"For I am fear incarnate." I whispered.

I pushed the button.

The sheer heat seared the zombies from me, the raw power of the blast lifting me high, slamming me into something hard with unimaginable force. I felt my body break, bones shattering. For once, I felt no pain, only warmth, inside and outside. Then the sounds faded, and I knew no more.

_._


	9. Chapter 9

**Wow, its been too long, sorry about that. Most of my life was eaten up by classes and assignments, now that the holidays have kicked in, I'll be back in earnest :) Thanks for being so patient, and to all those nice and constructive comments, thank you. Once again, my days have been made :D**

**SirLaggington: Yeah, I was hoping for a little balance, but I overdid it a bit, but read on, hopefully I managed to fix it in the later chapters. Thanks :)**

**Lunatic Pandora1 and Velocityshade: Thanks for the tip, time for me to stop reading Lasgun/Flashlight jokes! **

**Nero Vipus: None taken :P**

**Anonymous: Wow, thanks a lot! I didn't notice those mistakes myself, time for some correcting! Cheers**

**Everyone Else: Cheers! and keep em coming!**

**Once again, do point out any mistakes I may have made, enjoy!**

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**0000 hours, Mercy Hospital Rooftop. Librarian Joseph Niveh, after detonation of lower floor charges.**

Ehphrus roared in rage and frustration as he mashed down the firing stud of his heavy bolter, obliterating the infected that was streaming through the gapes in the wall that the tank had made. Even as the swarm faltered and died out, he kept firing, screaming his anger.

"That's enough, brother." I cautioned. The devastator ignored me, until I grabbed his shoulder pads and gave him a rough shake, enough to spoil his aim for a fraction. The punishing hail of heavy bolter shells died down. "Do not sully the Emperor's name with your actions."

Ehphrus, clearly wanting to argue, caught a glance from his sergeant, which shut him up. Only for a moment.

"It was Brother Darius!" He exclaimed to Lysus. "He was still alive!"

"Darius is alive?" Lysus's face came alive with surprise. "How?"

"Was?" Polus asked quietly.

Ehphrus nodded.

"He sacrificed himself to detonate the charges." He turned to glare at the four survivors. "So they could escape."

I looked at the four civilians. The girl had tears in her eyes, while the heavily tattooed man and another man dressed in what used to be white looked glum. The old man, however, was warily eyeing the Space Marines around him, realizing that over twenty massive and heavily armed marines were now staring at them, all of them aware that they have just lost a brother due to the four ragged civilians in front of them.

They looked bedraggled and torn up, but they radiated a strength that was not out of place in a Space Marine Chapter. What they had just been through would be very interesting indeed.

"You-" Thorad hissed at the civilians and took a threatening step forward while the other marines burst into surprised exclamation.

"Enough!" I snapped, injecting enough force into my voice to shut everyone up. It would not do to have my marines bickering like initiates in front of the largest mob they have ever faced. "Brother Darius died in self-sacrifice to save His Majesty's future citizens. He was protecting the future of the Imperium with his actions, do not taint the purity of his deeds with your bickering! Save it for the enemy. Back to your posts, all of you!"

The marines shambled off, the fire in their hearts not cooled, but rather redirected towards the enemy once more. Marcus gave me an appraising glance from where he was standing, no mean feat for someone wearing a skull-helmet, his Crozius casually resting on his shoulder.

"Impressive, Librarian," he muttered. "You have some voice to throw out after all it seems."

I ignored him, and turned to look at the civilians instead. If they had indeed survived all the way on their own, according to what Darius was thinking before he died, then they would be very useful indeed.

"What do you think?" I asked the chaplain.

"They look like the just came out of a grox's arse, but they seem to be made out of tougher stuff, if all the gore they are covered with are any indication."

"I'll talk to them," I sighed. "See to our brothers, their faith will need strengthening."

Marcus stomped off, spouting pious platitudes laced with his own colorful depictions. I approached the civilians, who looked at me warily.

"I am Librarian Joseph Niveh, of the Temple Chapter." I greeted. "I gather that you survived this far mostly by yourselves. A feat most impressive."

"Bill, Louis, Francis, Zoey." The old man gestured at the survivors respectively. "Darius was a good man, sorry for your loss."

"He died in service to the Emperor," I said. "That would be all that we can hope for."

"I ain't gonna argue theology with you," Bill shrugged. "But I suppose you have a plan to get out of here."

It was my turn to shrug.

"I'm afraid we're just as stuck as you. It seems what was supposed to save us has doomed us instead." I gestured to the beacon, blinking malevolently in the small bunker on the roof, next to the civilian vox. Ulran was hunched over it, studying the device carefully.

"Fuckin riddle-speaking space priest." Francis muttered under his breath, while Louis elbowed him nervously.

"We're trying to contact our battle-barge, our vox systems do not seem to be working in this city, does anyone know how to operate a civilian vox?" I pointed to the smaller white box sitting on a table.

Any reply was drowned out by the throaty roar of storm bolter fire from the Terminators guarding the main entrance to the roof.

"We have made contact with the enemy at last!" The Terminator bellowed. "In the Emperor's name! Attack!"

I glanced up sharply. Chaplain Marcus gave me an 'I got this' gesture, then flipped open the internal short-range vox, as well as amplifying his helmet voice projectors to maximum.

"Brothers!" His voice boomed out through the entire roof, the survivors flinching slightly. "We have seen these frakheaded arsewads kill our brothers!" A chorus of anger arose from the marines.

"Cheat them of the glorious death that they deserve!"

Another round of cursing.

"We have ran, crept along the streets, and frakked around with our thumbs up our arses for the whole day, the enemy a few rounds away from the retribution that they deserve! Yet, they now walk free to tarnish our holy planet!"

The marines fell silent, unsure of what to say.

"But I say enough!" He roared. "Enough of running around like frakwitted grox herders! Enough of showing our rear ends to these grinning pieces of rotting flesh! This is where we stand! And this is where they shall die!

The cheering began anew, punctuated by the rising bark of gunfire.

"Stand your ground, brothers! Do not let up! And may the Space Marine who kills the least earn the Emperor's damnation, and MY FRAKKING SCORN! Brothers! Fight for humanity! Fight for Terra! AND FIGHT FOR THE EMPEROR!"

The marines roared, the sound eclipsing even the screaming of the infected, their faith burning strong in the face of darkness.

"FOR THE EMPEROR!" Came the cry of the faithful. The marines guarding the entrances to the roof unleashed their fury on the infected, bolter rounds and plasma bolts tearing through decaying flesh.

"Should we cheer too?" Zoey murmured.

"Let them do the cheerleading," Louis replied. "We'll concentrate on not getting ourselves in deeper shit then we are already in."

Bill approached me, the only survivor undaunted by the Space Marines, each one at least twice his size.

"Hey, I know how to use that radio," he said. "I can help."

I turned to him and nodded, Ulran beckoning him over.

"Our vox systems do not seem to be working," he told the old man over the roar of storm bolter fire, and the cursing of Chaplain Marcus. "Although diagnostics incantations indicate that there is no technical damage to the systems themselves." He pointed to the radio, still buzzing with static. "That one works, you might be able to tell us how."

Bill checked out the radio, it still worked, although no one seemed to be broadcasting through it. I sensed an errant thought run through his mind. _Where was the news chopper? _

"We found your 'pickup', Bill." I told him. "We sent him away, much to his confusion."

Bill gaped, for once unable to say anything in return.

"Why?" He managed.

I shrugged.

"We didn't need his aid at the time, although to be honest, I am not so sure that was a wise move. My brothers can probably pick up his vehicle with their bare hands, I doubt it can ferry us from this building."

"That chopper was our only hope of getting outta here in one piece." Bill snapped.

"If you can get our vox working, we all can leave in something very much better than your chopper." I calmly put in. "Much more firepower too." I added.

"Great…" Bill muttered, looking over the radio again. He turned to Ulran. "What frequency does your vox use?"

Ulran gave him a puzzled look.

"Frequency? Oh, right. Hold on, performing sacraments of tuning." Bill rolled his eyes as the marine fiddled with his vox caster. "Right, here." Ulran read out the vox frequency that the chapter used.

Bill frowned.

"You need to retune it entirely." He said. "That's completely off. I'll guide you through our frequencies, you just tune yours."

"How long will this take?" I asked.

Ulran shrugged.

"Not sure," he said. "Ten minutes tops."

I nodded.

"Give me an update when you are done." I turned away from the two, already absorbed in their work.

"Get some rest," I told the survivors. "We can managed quite well by ourselves for now."

"Thanks." Louis said. "Don't look like we're going anywhere for some time."

They trooped off, and I went to check on our defense.

Marcus was doing a great job keeping the marines sharp, swearing at both the enemy and his brothers at the same time. Two Terminators each would guard two entrances, their storm bolters shredding the infected in the close confines of the corridor. Four more marines would stand behind or around them, stepping in to cover their more heavily armed brothers as they reloaded. To cover it all nicely, two Assault Terminators stood nearby, ready to step in if things got out of hand.

"Your plan is working, Librarian." Marcus stomped over, holstering his bolt pistol. "Frakkers are forced to come through one corridor only, idiots trample themselves in their hurry to get to us."

"Until we run out of ammo." I said. "We need to contact the _Indomitable._" Marines who weren't covering the entrances were running back and forth from the defensive lines, crates of ammunition in their arms.

Marcus shrugged.

"Your department, not mine."

I nodded.

"Brother Librarian! Chaplain!" Sergeant Tarus shouted from his perch on the edge of the rooftops. "You'll want to see this!"

I exchanged a glance with Marcus's faceplate. We approached Tarus, who was torn between looking up and down at the same time.

"Look." He said, deciding to point down first. We peered over the edge of the roof, and beheld a sight that was almost unbelievable.

The mass of infected that completely swallowed the streets was not to be content with using only the hospital's main entrance to get to us. _They were climbing up the sides of the hospital._

"Persistent little frakkers, aren't they?" Marcus commented calmly.

"They come at us as if their foul gods themselves were at their backs." I replied. Not all of the infected were capable of climbing up the walls, thankfully. Most of the climbers seemed to be of the special 'leaping' kind, or Hunters, according to what the four humans had in their memories.

They weren't making a lot of progress either, the sheer amount of them proving to be more of a hindrance then help, many Hunters falling off the high walls and smashing into the mass of their own kin.

"Watch them," Marcus ordered. "If they actually succeed in getting their rotting arses up here, then we'll have to redeploy."

"Yes Chaplain." Tarus said, and turned back to the horde below.

I clapped Marcus on the pauldron and turned back towards the makeshift bunker that housed the beacon and the radio. The marines were turning the corridor into a killing zone; the single path choked with smashed bodies and was literally flowing with dark blood. The sheer mass of the mob pushed the ragged corpses of their kin forward, creating a wall of rotting and mutilated flesh. Thankfully, the bolter rounds tore through flesh and bone easily, detonating amidst the masses.

Occasionally, even the wall of bodies could not hold against the continuous fire of the Space Marines, and it shattered, the infected behind it torn to pieces, before the foul spawn regrouped again, and the whole process repeated itself.

"CONSERVE YOUR FRAKKING AMMUNITION, YOU SON OF A WHORE!" Marcus roared at two marines who were firing past the Terminators. "YOU CAN'T PULL SPARE CLIPS OUT OF YOUR ARSES, NOR DO THEY MAGICALLY REAPPEAR AT YOUR BELT! HOLD YOUR FIRE UNTIL YOUR BROTHERS NEED TO RELOAD!"

The faint rumbling that I felt since the attack began grew stronger, and I knew that stronger zombies were on their way. I hurried into the bunker, where Bill and Ulran were standing over the radio, Ulran wearing a rather smug look on his face.

"It is done, Brother Librarian." He announced. "I-we have made contact with the _Indomitable._" He gestured towards the radio.

"Battle-Barge _Indomitable_, this is Librarian Joseph Niveh."

The voice that came through sounded very surprised.

"_Librarian? What are you still doing inside the city? Brother-Captain Destrol has issued commands for the second phase of the cleansing to be carried out as soon as the attractor beacon has been activated. All units were to withdraw from Fairfield to the drop zones."_

"What?" I almost shouted into the radio. "The second phase was not to be activated until we have given the approval! You mean to say that you have not sent us a retrieval beacon?"

There was a long pause, and the full force of my blunder hit me like a thunder hammer.

"_What is your location, brother?"_

"The hospital. Can you send retrieval?"

Another pause.

"_We can," _Ulran let out a breath he was holding. "_Although it will take time. Most of our Thunderhawks are occupied with supporting First Company on the outskirts of the city. You will have to hold until then. I am rerouting any available gunship to your location. Emperor be with you, brother, Indomitable out."_

"Well, we gotta long wait ahead," Bill sighed, picking up his assault rifle. "Looks like your boy got it all covered." He said, glancing through a window.

I nodded, still reeling from the glaring mistake I had made. With some effort, I pushed it aside and concentrated on keeping my brothers alive.

"Talk to Chaplain Marcus, tell him everything you know about the infected."

"The one who can yell louder than all those infected?" Zoey said. "Great…Don't you need to know too?"

I shook my head.

"I already know what I need. You did well, Bill Overbeck. Your military skills still serve you well after all the years."

I made towards the defensive line, barely hearing Francis mutter something that sounded suspiciously like: 'fucking riddle-speaking _psychic _space priest.'

"I'll take over, the survivors know many things you should know too." I told him.

The Chaplain nodded. For all his outward bluster, he was no fool.

As Marcus left, a low rumble sounded through the screaming and the gunfire. The tanks had reached us at last. A huge chunk of wall struck the Terminators head on, the rubble doing nothing more than stumbling them back a step or two. Their aim was thrown off, but the four marines behind them picked up the momentary slack, opening fire with their bolters.

"Focus fire!" Lysus roared. "Prioritize targets!"

The hallway was too small for more than one tank to go through, which meant that they had to come at us single file, blocking the other infected in the process.

Just as Lysus gave the order, another solid piece of debris soared towards them, striking the tactical marines full on. They scattered, dazed but otherwise unharmed, save for unlucky Brother Ossus, whose helmet had been crushed by the force of the debris.

"Reinforce!" Lysus shouted, and one of the ammo-carrying marines ditched his crate and ran over, loading his bolter as he went.

The Terminators had already recovered, and the combined fire of the marines promptly tore the first tank apart.

_One down, hundreds to go._

The next tank tried the same tactic, but the Terminators were ready this time. One swung his power fist upwards, intercepting the flying piece of wall, shattering it into fragments of concrete and dust. The others poured boltgun fire into the monstrosity, and as the tank fell, I could see many more lining up to take its place.

As big as they were, they could also soak up a decent amount of fire before dying, even from bolters, slowly but surely, they would get closer. We couldn't have that.

"Brother Thorad," I called. "Clear them out."

The heavy devastator nodded, hefting his plasma cannon, his brothers moving aside swiftly to give him space to fire. As his cannon charged up to fire with a familiar whine, I heard another high-pitch scream that rose above all the other noises. A very familiar scream.

"Incoming!" Tarus shouted from his perch on the roof's edge. The Hunters had reached us at last. Dark shapes leapt from the edges, numerous, but hardly a large number. They had gratifyingly little effect on the marines, doing little more than staggering them slightly, and scratching at their armor.

Tarus and his remaining assault marines blazed forward to intercept the beasts, chainswords buzzing angrily.

Thorad had fully charged up his cannon, he had aimed it at the incoming tank down the corridor when the Hunter slammed into him. The devastator was caught off guard, and stumbled, his aim ruined. The hiss of superheated plasma discharging was not normally loud, but at that time, it was deafening. The plasma round soared down the corridor, falling short of the tank, and smashing into the concrete floor in front of it.

With the power of a miniature sun.

The tank flashed into miniature goblets of steaming flesh, and the corridor, already weakened by the charges we had set off, collapsed entirely, the area hit by the blast flashing into steam. With a sickening lurch, and with a jolt of horror, I realized that half the floor was about to cave in, sending us into the maws of the mob below.

"Clear out!" I bellowed. "Move, get clear!"

The marines scrambled away from the area, not before grinding the offending hunter to pulp. There was a deafening rumble as the immediate area around the entrance simply broke apart, sending unlucky marines straight into the mass of infected below. The debris crushed hundreds of zombies, but more simply overran the floor below.

Infected began pouring in earnest from the now gaping hole and ramp that used to be a quarter of the roof and all of the main entrance. Our defense had crumbled, literally, and we were in serious danger of being overrun.

In short, to quote Francis: We were Fucked.

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**2300 hours, Fairfield City Center. Brother Sergeant Thanthus, ten minutes after activation of the attractor beacon.**

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Sergeant Thanthus slumped against the massive crate behind him, he shook blood out of his chainsword, and looked at the ground around him. The sergeant was standing on a mountain of corpses, the impure mutated fiends shredded by the Emperor'scleansing light.

Around him, almost thirty marines looked just as tired as he was, many had run out of ammunition, and carried makeshift weapons, torn from their surroundings.

When the vox links had failed to contact any of his brothers in the vicinity since the initial drop, Thanthus knew that he had no choice but to focus his strengths to finding his battle brothers manually. He and his squad had managed to round up all the marines he could find, they had been doing it so many times till he himself had lost count of the number of brothers he had linked up with. When ammunition began to run low, he knew that there was no chance of them calling for retrieval or supplies, nor could they accomplish their mission.

With the bitter taste of failure on his tongue, he had ordered his marines to hunker down, and wait for rescue.

He glanced at the frail civilian standing next to him, her face pale, eyes closed, her frail and slender frame slumped against a wall. Her eyes flicked open, and she smiled wearily at Thanthus.

"We held them back again, dunno how many more till help comes." She said.

Thanthus shrugged, and glanced at the dark streets.

"More will be coming, we'll have to stand strong."

"Think your Emperor is still watching over us?"

Thanthus smiled.

"I know He does."

They found Jonnie cowering in an abandoned building, the bodies of her infected family scattered around her. Although shaken, she pulled more than her fair share of weight with the Space Marines, her knowledge of the infected saving his battle brother time after time. That was six hours ago, and after non-stop fighting, she could no longer stand properly.

"Your courage would put many Space Marines to shame, Jonnie," Thanthus said, not for the first time. "You would do your family proud."

She managed a chuckle.

"I doubt they would appreciate me bashing in heads with a crowbar, but thanks anyway." Her left arm was soaked with blood, and her body shook with repeated coughs. This time, blood glistened on her lips.

"Goddammit!" She swore to herself.

Thanthus was about to reply when a deafening shriek pierced the night. This time, the shriek was far louder than any of the ones he had heard. It was the shriek of millions of damned souls.

Then the horde came.

Jonnie glanced up, her fear slowly turning into disbelief, then fear.

"My god…" she whispered.

When Thanthus was a mere initiate, his superiors had earmarked him for leadership, one grizzled sergeant even saying that he would one day be Chapter Master. The veteran would not be the first to say so either. Although Thanthus did his best to discourage the thought, he now knew that that day would never come. He felt no regret at the thought, only an odd sense of peace.

As the sheer mass of infected rolled towards him and his brothers, he readied himself for the last time. His brothers did not need anymore words from him, they knew what they needed to do. He slipped off his helmet, letting it fall to the floor, along with his bolt pistol. He gripped his chainsword with both hands.

Jonnie did not even bother, she merely smiled softly.

"Hey, Space Marine," she said.

Thantus turned to her.

"Promise me you'll shoot me before they get us. I won't turn into one of them, don't let me."

The Space Marine sergeant stared at the slender girl before him, and his hard eyes softened.

"I promise." He picked up his bolt pistol and holstered it. He extended his hand towards her, and she gripped his massive gauntlet.

They turned back to the horde, to their deaths, Thanthus smiled for the last time. The Emperor called, and his Angels of Death would not disappoint Him.

_._


	10. Chapter 10

**0100 Hours, Mercy Hospital Rooftops, Zoey, one minute after rooftop collapse.**

"The hell?" She muttered in disbelief as she saw the horde pouring in from a massive hole where the entrance used to be.

"And I thought we were gonna get some beauty sleep." Louis said, already bringing his assault rifle to bear.

"Guess not." She said, starting to fire her pistols at the horde, not even bothering to aim.

"Move!" the Librarian was shouting. "Get clear!"

"We gotta get to the bunker, it's the only place left where we gotta chance to survive." Bill said. "Go, go, go."

The noise was unbearable, from the screaming of the zombies to the bark of the Space Marine guns, she could barely hear herself as she started to run towards the bunker. She pushed back a zombie that came too close, putting a round through its head as she did.

There were everywhere, pretty soon, they would be swimming in zombies.

Astoundingly, she could still hear Chaplain Marcus over the din. The chaplain had ditched them as soon as he heard the really big gun go off, running towards the Librarian.

"I LEAVE POST FOR FIVE FUCKING MINUTES AND YOU ALREADY FUCK THINGS UP?" He shouted, presumably at the Librarian, Joseph, or something.

She couldn't hear what Joseph said, although she saw that the two were having no problems keeping the zombies at bay. Any infected that came near the Librarian burst into white flame, and those that didn't were swatted by the Chaplain's staff.

_Idiot should've stood at the fucking door instead. _She thought to herself.

"Zoey! Come on!" Bill shouted. She turned and ran towards the open doors of the bunker, the other marines following Bill's example, retreating towards the bunker as well, laying down covering fire as they moved.

Marines streamed past her, some making their way towards the top of the bunker, and she felt, as well as heard, the heavier and bigger marines behind her, bringing up the rear. Even they eventually overtook her and Francis, however, while Louis and Bill yelled frantically for them to hurry, trying to stay at the door while dodging running marines.

She was just about to reach when she felt something wet seize her around her chest. She screamed in fear and frustration as the smoker began to pull her into the center of the horde.

"No!" She screamed. She would not die now, not when they had just found guys with big guns and bigger armor that could help them, not when extraction was so close. Not when they could be safe again.

Francis turned around to help her, but was mauled by a Hunter. Zoey felt the rotting fists of the infected already pummeling her as she was dragged, when the tongue suddenly fell loose. The hands reaching for her caught fire, and they shrieked, pulling away. A massive blue gauntlet grabbed her and hauled her up effortlessly. The Librarian's staff glowed with power as he pulled her to the bunker, keeping the zombies at bay. The ones that tried to attack bounced off an invisible wall, their already brittle bones shattering.

She saw Francis being dragged by the scruff of his jacket collar by the Chaplain, the mangled body of the Hunter that had mauled him still attached to Francis, who was trying valiantly to get back on his feet and shake it off at the same time. Bill and Louis were shoved aside by the marines who laid down a withering barrage of covering fire.

The Librarian reached the bunker and threw her in, slamming the doors shut behind him.

"Seal that door, the windows too, use anything you can find." He ordered. "We cannot allow them to breach this bunker."

As if that wasn't abundantly obvious enough, Zoey thought. The Librarian shot her a glance, and she ducked her head in apology.

One of the massive marines, Terminators, she thought they were called, gave an angry grunt, which sounded like a rhino getting ready to charge.

"Nothing in this room that is good enough." His inhumanly deep voice boomed. "Terminators, use yourselves as barricades!" It was an almost laughable sight, the Terminators carrying shields planted themselves firmly behind the large rectangular windows and the double doors, their shields liquidating any zombies that tried to get in.

Joseph held a piece of white and red metal in his other hand, on closer inspection, Zoey recognized it as a Space Marine pauldron, with similar markings to the ones she saw on Darius's own. Joseph handed it to a bare-headed marine, who stared at it with grim resignation.

"He took hundreds with him, Sergeant." The Librarian said. "He will stand pure before the Emperor now."

The Sergeant nodded, and accepted the plate.

"Thorad would want nothing better, brother." He said. "Thank you."

Joseph clapped him on the shoulder, then glanced upwards.

"We need reinforcements on the roof, brother!" A marine yelled from above.

"The Terminators are better suited on the top," the Librarian said. "I'll handle up top, you keep things steady here." He beckoned to a handful of Terminators to follow him, and disappeared through the marine-shaped hole that was put through the small doorframe leading upstairs. How the heavy bastards made it up the stairs, she had no idea.

"Try not to crash that roof too, Librarian." Marcus called out, earning a rare finger gesture of disapproval from the blue-armored marine. The chaplain roared with laughter and began directing, or rather yelling, at the marines down below.

"We're fucked big time, aren't we?" She asked no-one in particular.

"Well, we just gotta sit tight," Bill said. "It'll be ok."

"That's what we did ten minutes ago," Francis snapped. "Look where it got us."

"At least we got help." Louis chimed in.

"And look what they did to the roof." Francis argued. "And with them around, I can hardly move my legs, hell, I can't even move my ass."

"Pity you can still move your mouth." Bill snapped, the biker glowering at him.

"Uh, Francis," Zoey said, glancing nervously at a few marines, who were looking at them. "I don't think dissing men who are twice our size when they are right next to you is a really good idea."

"THE GIRL'S RIGHT, LITTLE ANGRY MAN." The chaplain boomed from right next to Zoey, making her jump despite the roar of gunfire all around her. He crouched down beside them, causing Francis to shift further into Bill."ESPECIALLY WHEN THERE'S ALL THOSE HUNGRY ZOMBIES OUT THERE."

"How's the defense holdin' up?" Bill asked. He seemed to be the only one undaunted by the massive chaplain.

Marcus shrugged.

"Not bad." His voice lowered, slightly. "Good thing storm shields don't need ammunition."

The survivors had to curl up and hug their knees to let the marines pass, Terminators were even bigger, it was a wonder they could all fit in the bunker. She squirmed in discomfort, feeling the bruises of all the beatings she took today. She felt like she was going to fall apart.

"Bah!" Marcus scoffed. "If you think that's a tight space, wait till you get stuck in a cargo box with an angry Carnifex, naked!"

The marines who were listening roared with laughter, and Zoey felt that they have heard this story many times before.

"With nothing but faith in the Emperor to protect you from the frakking massive scythes it uses for arms." Marcus went on.

"And what in the Emperor's name were you doing in that box in the first place, brother Chaplain?" One Terminator laughed.

Marcus glanced at him with scorn and smugness.

"Why, making breakfast for you fucking slops, what else?"

Another roar of laughter. At least it drowned out the screaming and the booming of gunfire. For a while.

"I knew something was wrong with those field rations that morning." Another Terminator chuckled.

Zoey glanced at Bill, who only shrugged in confusion, while Francis grinned. Surprisingly, the chaplain had gotten along well with Francis during the short time where they briefed him on the zombies. The two of them trading and sharing all manners of obscenities with each other, much to Marcus's delight.

Marcus turned to Ulran.

"How long did the frakwits up in the _Indomitable_ say retrieval was going to take?"

Ulran shrugged.

"They didn't say, most of the Thunderhawks were tied up with supporting the First Company as they cut their way through the city."

Marcus snorted.

"Likely First Company will be here long before the Thunderhawks arrive."

"Won't your boys up top run out of ammo?" Zoey asked. The deep bark of gunfire had not subsided since they got here, and she wondered how much ammunition they marines still had.

"They will," Marcus replied. "Which is why we have to get more."

Francis glanced at him as if he was insane, which, Zoey thought, he probably was.

"There's plenty of ammunition crates back there." He gestured casually to the double doors, backed by huge Terminators.

"I've got some sort of plan," the Chaplain carried on, oblivious to the flabbergasted stares of Zoey and the others before him. "But I'll be needing your help."

"Now hold on a fucking minute." Francis burst out. "We ain't going back there! We almost got mobbed getting in!"

"Francis," Bill sighed. "What do you think will happen to us when the boys up top run outta ammo?" He turned to Marcus. "What do you have in mind?"

"There's only enough room out there for a few tanks, the sheer mass of the horde hinders any extra movement for the special infected to come through. Most of the ugly fuckers out there are commons."

"If there were more tanks out there, this bunker won't be standing anymore." Zoey reminded him, wondering where the chaplain was going with this explanation.

"The grot-lovers don't have anything in their arsenal that can damage Terminator armor," Marcus continued, ignoring Zoey. "If we send out a group of closely packed Terminators, we'll be able to reach the ammo crates without any serious trouble."

"So why do you need our help?" Louis asked. "Unless you're gonna let us wear that armor?" He added in hopefully.

Marcus gave him a glare that made Louis turn several shades of color, the skull helmet conveying his emotions perfectly.

"Space will be tighter then a virgin joygirl's arse, and while marines would be able to easily carry more ammo, shielding them from the horde will be harder. Which is why we need squishy civilians like you to do the mule lifting."

"We'll carry less, and move much slower than your boys," Bill said, "not to mention much more vulnerable."

Marcus nodded.

"True, but at least you'll get to carry something."

Bill smiled grimly.

"We're in."

The skull helmet seemed to grin even wider.

**0130 Hours, Fairfield City Outskirts, First Company, landfall.**

Fire rained from the sky. Hundreds of blazing comets streaked from the heavens cut a burning path through the darkness of the skies. Large, rectangular shapes followed suit, gliding alongside the comets with a deadly grace that belied their size.

All of them headed towards the city whose streets seemed to come alive with movement, the entire city seethed with an army of moving dead, and soon, they would seethe no longer.

With a deafening crash that drowned out even the screams of the infected, the burning drop pods smashed into the ground all around the city, crushing thousands of zombies as they landed.

There was a moment of utter silence as even the zombies turned to stare at the new anomaly. Then the pods cracked open, and out stepped hundreds of giants, clad in immaculate white, red and gold suits of armor.

At the head of these giants was none other than Brother Captain Destrol himself. He raised a massive, ornate sword that burned with holy fury.

"FOR CHAPTER, HONOR," he began, "AND FOR THE EMPEROR!" His marines taking up the last cry in unison, roaring their righteous fury at the mob before them.

Destrol charged, and his marines were not far behind. They slammed into the horde with a force that would make the tanks seem like paltry toys. Bolters boomed, and swords flashed.

The 1st Company of the Temple Chapter had arrived.

Behind them, Predator tanks advanced steadily, their sponsoon-mounted heavy bolters shredding zombies at range, while their main turrets repeatedly spat out the Emperor's own fury at the monstrosities.

Destrol and his Honor Guard led the assault, mercilessly plowing through the zombies, crushing any that stood in their way. The horde reacted at last, swarming towards the new threat, massive tanks waded through their foul brethren to reach the newcomers.

The assault did not slow a fraction. Destrol's brothers scythed through the tanks as if in afterthought, the marines swarming up the larger tanks, bringing them down with sword and bolter, and their faith in the Emperor.

A handful of drop pods streaked overhead, bypassing the cordon the marines had made around the infested city, they headed towards the middle of the streets, towards the center of the infestation.

They landed with destructive force, pulverizing zombies and small buildings alike, directly in the middle of the swarming horde. The pods snapped open, and out stepped the walking death machines of the Emperor.

The Dreadnoughts needed no further encouragement. They simply stepped from their pods and waded into the fray. Their massive claws carved bloody swathes through the horde as they were swept back and forth, and those that escaped the claws were pulped by the roaring assault cannons that two Hellfire Dreadnoughts wielded. Missiles screamed towards the horde, slamming into the masses of zombies, opening huge, gaping holes in the horde.

Flames carpeted the mass of flesh, the holy promethium reducing the zombies to smoldering chunks of flesh. The walking death machines were unstoppable, and one or two chuckled slightly as they spotted the tanks coming towards them.

Hunters bounced off the hardened armored hulls of the walkers, those that could find a perch on the Dreadnoughts were promptly plucked with a massive claw and reduced to gently steaming husks by gouts of flame. Long, wet tongues were ripped from the mouths of their owners as they tried vainly to slow down the Dreadnought attack.

Some infected made it through the phalanx of destruction that the Dreadnoughts wrought, and the zombies swarmed up the hardened plates of the Emperor's most loyal servants. They pounded uselessly at the ceramite, reducing their hands to bloody pulp.

One Dreadnought chuckled.

"THAT…TICKLES." It wheezed, and spun itself around with alarming speed, its torso rotating with its claws outstretched. The zombies were sent flying, and the claws cleared enough space for it to use the heavy flamers attached to its arms with deadly effect.

A massive piece of rubble smashed into the Dreadnought's hull. It spun around, and found its offending aggressor. The tank reached down, and picked up a car.

The Dreadnought charged, its armored feet pulping the zombies below it. The car slammed into its hull, the former civilian vehicle compressing itself into a knot of twisted metal and falling uselessly to the ground, where it was crushed by the charging Dreadnaught.

Without breaking stride, the Dreadnought picked up the tank before it could rip out more rubble. The massive walker dwarfed even the tank, and it raised the struggling beast high up above its hull. The Dreadnought calmly ripped the tank in two, tossing both halves of the heavily muscled corpse back into the horde.

If the zombies still had minds of their own, they would have fled. But still they came on, screaming their hatred. The Space Marine death machines were ready, however, and they met each wave with unending ferocity of their own, leaving behind not much corpses other than a few bits of bone, shredded or charred husks and the occasional tank body part.

The Dreadnoughts held until the assault petered out, from solid waves of infected to trickles, then, nothing. They shook blood from their hulls, and tried to scrape off the greenish-yellow slime that almost completely covered them while waiting for the main force to catch up.

Brother-Captain Destrol rounded the corner with his entourage, their white armor now drenched in blood and the same revolting slime that covered the walkers, but even then, they still seemed to glow. The Terminators glanced around at the carnage in approval.

"BROTHER CAPTAIN…" the lead Dreadnought rumbled, towering over the marine. "WE HAVE CLEARED…THIS SECTOR."

Destrol gave a dry laugh.

"Brother," he smiled. "We just cleared one street." He glanced at the rest of the walkers, who were idly spinning their power claws, occasionally glancing towards the rest of the horde that was still howling.

"Would you join us for the rest of the cleansing?" He asked, although it was a foregone conclusion.

"HIS WILL…BE DONE."

They marched off together, towards the next streets of zombies, as he knew that his brothers all over the city were doing as well. The Emperor's Hammer had fallen, and only ruination of the enemy would follow.

**0150 Hours, Astartes Battle Barge **_**Indomitable,**_** after 1****st**** Company Landfall.**

The marine in charge of communications aboard the battle barge was steadily monitoring the stream of cogitations from the 1st Company after their arrival. His subordinate was supervising Thunderhawk support throughout the city, and both of them had their gauntlets full.

"Brother, the call for retrieval atop Mercy Hospital has been repeated." He reminded his subordinate. "Can we spare any Thunderhawks?"

"We will have to," came the reply. He glanced at a nearby scribe-servitor that stood ready to record any transmissions that came through for the archives later. "Scanning Thunderhawk frequencies." A slight pause. "There. Thunderhawk Talon 5 has been redirected to Mercy Hospital."

The communication cogitator began to chirp. A red light was flashing on the monitor. The marine glanced at it in curiosity. He and his subordinate exchanged puzzled looks.

A priority override code. Coming from the commanding retinue, from Brother-Captain Destrol.

_Communication cogitators, _it read. _Abort all Thunderhawk Gunship activity around Mercy Hospital, none shall approach the hospital before the Brother-Captain and his retinue enters it himself. The retrieval situation concerning Mercy Hospital rooftops has been resolved. Thunderhawk extraction shall not be necessary. The Emperor Protects._

"Resolved?" The subordinate raised his eyebrows. "We have heard no such thing from Librarian Niveh."

"It is not our place to question orders, brother." Although in truth, he was puzzled as well. The order invoked too many ominous feelings in him then he liked, feelings which he promptly crushed. He opened a channel to Thunderhawk Talon 5

"Thunderhawk Talon 5, you have receive new directives, abort emergency extraction and return to support runs for 5th segment of the 1st Company. The Emperor Protects."

"_Copy, Indomitable," _the pilot acknowledged. "_Aborting Emergency extraction now." _

A stifling silence ruled the communication station for hours.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey guys, yeah, I know it has been ages, and I very sorry to leave ya'll hanging like that. Been going through some rocky patches, and college work isn't helping either. Anyway, I'm back, and already feverishly working on the next chapter. This story is almost over, just a few more chapters, and it'll be done! :D**

**Much thanks to Brother of the Moon for yanking my sorry ass outta stasis and back to writing.**

**Captain Literate: Hahahaha, dude, thank you. Its wonderful to hear that. and yeah, C.S. Goto is a heretic! Multilasers...but yeah, thanks for the tip, gotta remember that :D**

**Lunatic Pandora: Not Chaos...much much worse:P**

**Everyone else: Thank you so much for putting up with me, and hope you enjoy this one. As always, enjoy, and drop a review!  
**

* * *

**0150 hours, Mercy Hospital Rooftops, Zoey.**

"I feel like bait…" Zoey complained as she tugged on the makeshift harness that connected her to the huge backs of one of the Assault Terminators.

"You're not." Marcus assured her. "You're just the load donkey. The Terminators are the bait."

"With bait like that, you'll never get any kind of fish, ever." Louis said, the only one of them who looked comfortable in the harness.

"You'll get plenty of zombie fish alright." Zoey replied.

"Alright, civvies!" Marcus shouted over the screaming of the infected. "The plan is simple. The Terminators will charge out the front doors, you'll follow close behind, or dragged behind, that depends on you. Once we reach the ammunition crates, you will proceed to attach the crates to your harnesses. All you need to do is haul boxes, and don't shit your fucking pants! You smell bad enough already!"

"Jerkoff." Francis muttered.

"Terminators!" Marcus continued, blissfully unaware of Francis's colorful description of him. "This building is not built to sustain continuous assault, so I would not have any of you charging into solid walls! We actually need them this time. Break anything, and I'll fucking break you!"

"YES BROTHER!" the massive hulks boomed. "FOR THE EMPEROR!"

"Fuc-" Bill managed as the survivors were yanked after the Terminators, who charged through the open double doors.

Zoey was once again in the middle of the swarm, albeit flanked by massive superhuman walking tanks, but still, too close for comfort. Their stench was overpowering, and she couldn't hear anything through all the screaming.

The marines cleared the bunker quickly, and despite their disdain for the survivors, they quickly formed into a tight wedge, keeping the tiny humans safely inside the formation. Their storm shields flashed as the zombies that charged them were turned into vapor. Thunder Hammers lived up to their namesake as they carved bloody swathes through the zombies. Great care was taken to avoid battering the already weakened floor, although the wide swings were more than enough.

Zoey squirmed, feeling ridiculously naked without a weapon. With the Terminators to cover them, she couldn't shoot without them blocking her shots. Besides, if a situation arose where she needed a weapon badly out here, they were probably screwed anyway.

"We've reached the ammunition dump!" The Terminator Zoey was attached to roared, leaving her ears ringing despite the screaming from the infected. "Now, squishies!"

_So that's what they call us now. _She thought to herself as she grabbed one of the large ammo crates. Damn those things were heavy. She wondered why they sent an old man, a girl, and two guys to carry boxes that contained bullets as big as her finger.

She managed to lug one crate and clipped it to her harness, or rather the Terminator's harness. She spotted the others doing the same. Bill was struggling with his, but his determination prevented him from slowing down.

"INCOMING!" One Termie yelled as they raised their shields. Zoey's Terminators, in a rotten stroke of luck, raised his too slowly. The piece of debris with zombies attached slammed into him, driving him back into Zoey. She tried to dive out of the way, but the harness pulled her back. She screamed a torrent of curses that would've made Marcus blush at the Termie, who did some sort of a mid-drop push up to prevent himself from crushing her entirely.

"Close ranks!" Came the order. "Keep loading, squishies!"

A few zombies made it through the gap, and Zoey kicked at them, seriously regretting not bringing a weapon. A sharp stab of pain in her ankle reminded her that she had injured it in some way. Fucking great.

She grabbed the next crate, and half-crawled, half-limped with it towards her Terminator, who had blocked another piece of debris with his shield. Another moved sharply in front of her, shielding her from at least three hunters and one smoker, which bounced off the heavy armor he wore. The Terminator stumbled, and the gap widened.

"We cannot hold for long, hurry!" the lead sergeant bellowed, swinging his hammer into a tank's face, pulping the upper half of its body.

"Done!" Francis shouted, soon followed by Louis, who both ran towards Zoey and Bill, helping them with the last crates.

A trio of tanks had charged the wall of Terminators, and while two were taken apart by the thunder hammers, the third managed to charge through the wall, scattering the closest Terminators.

"Reform!" The sergeant roared, "protect the squishies!" Two Terminators stepped in front of the survivors, while the others tried to close the gap. One Terminator was flung away from the phalanx, and the zombies engulfed him like ants.

As the Terminators tried to recover, a dome of white light engulfed them, and the nearby zombies were sheared in half where the shield of light suddenly formed. The rest beat their rotting fists uselessly against the dome. Zoey glanced upwards, towards the bunker, where the light came from the Librarian's staff.

Niveh gripped his staff with both hands, keeping the dome in place, until another piece of debris slammed into him. The Librarian fell, stunned, and the shield collapsed. But it was enough.

The tank was brought down, pieces of it still streaming blood as it crumpled. Zoey and Francis finished loading the last of the crates, and hurried back to their Terminators.

"Done!" The survivors shouted in unison, and the Terminators rose from their shield wall in one swift movement, moving back towards the bunker, loads in tow. Their hammers flashed, and zombies, big and small, fell under their might.

"Keep moving," the sergeant bellowed. "We're almost there!"

Zoey limped along, the crates behind her. The zombies could not penetrate the wall of solid Terminator, but with each tank they felled, they came just a little closer to being overwhelmed.

_Isn't that what always happens in the movies? _She thought to herself. _We get this close to the safe bunker then get eaten by hungry zombies. Then the credits roll while our screams echo in the background._

"Fuck that," she muttered. "I'm not getting eaten, fuck no."

_Isn't that what the lead always says? Right before he gets eaten? But she wasn't a he….does that mean she would survive? The girl always survives, right? At least the ones that weren't a total pain in the ass- OH SHIT!_

Busy with her brooding, or rather panicked mental ranting, her feet had got caught in the harness dragging the crates. She tripped and smacked into the floor. She screamed in terror as she flailed around desperately, trying to get up. Before the other survivors could get to her, a massive gauntlet scooped her up, her head just inches away from the crackling business end of a Thunder Hammer.

"Not on us you won't." The Terminator boomed, and she recognized him as the one who had almost crushed her.

"Thanks man. I owe ya!" She shouted back, giddy with relief.

They burst back through the open doors of the bunker, the other marines laying down a withering barrage of covering fire. She spotted the marine with the big ass gun that brought down the roof of the hospital taking aim, just before Marcus swatted him on the head with his staff.

"HOLD YOUR FIRE, YOU FRAKKING IDIOT!" The Chaplain roared. "YOU'VE DONE ENOUGH DAMAGE FOR ONE DAY!"

The marines re-sealed the bunker, the remaining Assault Terminators reinforcing the entrance with their shields again.

The survivors collapsed more with relief then exhaustion. The marines worked tirelessly, piling on the newly acquired crates with the enthusiasm of kids opening Christmas presents. Very grim kids.

"Get the ammunition to our brothers upstairs!" The Terminator sergeant that had led the foray ordered. "Move!"

"I saw your wizard get hit." Zoey said when Marcus stomped over to check on them. "He gonna be alright?"

Marcus snorted, sounding more like a train.

"It takes more than a piece of rock thrown by rotting hands to bring down a Space Marine!" He paused. "Even those pussfied Librarians."

"Glad to hear that," Bill said, glancing around uneasily. "Where's that pickup your buddies promised? They sure are taking their own sweet time."

Marcus waved an armored gauntlet at him.

"As the Emperor wills." Even Zoey could hear the slight tightness of his reply.

For the hundredth time that day, she wondered if they would ever be safe.

**0200 hours, Tac-Recon Charlie Bravo, on approach to Mercy Hospital.**

"Say again, Command?" Sergeant Dwight demanded incredulously.

"_Your orders are clear enough, sergeant." _Came the crisp reply over the Black Hawk helicopter's on-board radio. "_You are to identify and engage this new threat."_

"Sir," Dwight tried again. "These newcomers have been sighted fighting the Whisky Deltas. What's more, they've been out there in force for around a day now, even we couldn't last that long out in the open. I think it would be better if we linked up with them, we have a better chance of surviving if we all stop trying to kill each other."

"_Sergeant, your position is to follow orders, not question the merits of your superiors. You will carry out this mission, or someone else who is more capable will be put in charge instead."_

Dwight sighed. It was useless to argue against someone with more stripes than you.

"Yes sir. Charlie Bravo out."

"Not good?" Private Lykins asked beside him, her hair flapping in the wake of the helicopter's flight. Their voices were muffled by the gas masks they wore, in hopes of staying uncontaminated by the virus.

He shook his head.

"They don't get it." He said. "Whoever's out there has got both the skill and hardware to hold out for that long, in the open. If we engage them, then they'll turn hostile, all of them. God knows there's few enough of the U.S. army left to fight the Whisky Deltas, let alone these strangers."

"I thought we were supposed to carry out a simple reconnaissance of the latest Whisky Delta disturbance around the hospital?" She asked.

"And they give us three Black Hawks full of troopers to do that?" He shot back. "Recon probes spotted the comets coming down from the sky, and they also captured some pictures of the newcomers, nothing concrete, but enough to verify a solid presence. Whoever is down there knows their shit, what's more, they're better at it than we are."

"We'll be slaughtered." She said simply. Dwight looked around at the other troopers onboard the Black Hawk, all of them sitting silently, trying not to look at him.

He knew he was supposed to boost his men's morale, but this time, he couldn't muster the strength to lie to them. He remained silent.

"Sergeant," the helicopter pilot called from the cockpit. "We're coming up on Mercy Hospital now."

"Take us around it, I wanna get some intel back to Command before we engage."

"Roger, swinging around."

Dwight gripped the handhold tightly as the helicopter swung around, giving them a good view of the hospital.

"Holy shit." Lykins murmured.

The entire hospital looked as if it was a giant ant hill, with Whisky Deltas swarming all around it, the narrow corridors of the hospital were too narrow for the horde itself, and hundreds were pushed out of the many windows until the hospital looked like it was bleeding zombies.

"Up on the roof," Dwight spotted something odd. It was flashes of light, followed by the unmistakable bark of gunfire. "Can you get us a closer look?"

The pilot swung around again, coming in closer to the rooftop. At this range, Dwight could see that all the Whisky Deltas were heading towards one unmistakable location: the bunker in the middle of the rooftop. Where gunfire was pouring from the windows, and random flashes of light that looked like lighting. Dwight wasn't sure, but he also thought he heard shouting, very loud metallic shouting.

"What the fuck?" He glanced again, getting a good look at the massive figures on top of the bunker. They were huge, encased in some sort of weird armor that reminded Dwight of the figures he used to play with as a kid. Their guns were deadly too, they had enough firepower to keep the infected away from the bunker.

"Explosive rounds, by the looks of it." Lykins said. "Shit."

"Load up, AP rounds!" Dwight barked out, through his helmet mike to the others. There was a familiar snap-clack of loading weapons, and he felt slightly reassured.

"Sir, we've been spotted!" The pilot shouted.

Dwight cursed and glanced outside again. Several of the armored giants were waving at them, firing tracer rounds into the air. One of them, which seemed to be responsible for the white light, fired up another beam from a weird, staff-like object he carried. The beam shot vertically upwards, like a flare, and ended in a giant two-headed eagle shape in the sky, brightening the entire area above them.

"Are they calling for help?" Lykins asked in bewilderment.

"Goddammit!"

"What do we do now, sir?" The pilot asked him.

Dwight hesitated, the first time in a very long time which he did not know what to do. Engage, and they would all die. Disobey his orders, their lives were also over. No unit could stay out in the open without support for long.

"We're dead either way," Lykins said, "just one's confirmed death, the other, maybe we've got a fighting chance."

"Fuck it." Dwight opened up a channel to his men. "All units, abort engagement, prepare for combat extraction!"

"_You do not have clearance to abort current mission, sergeant." _A voice cut in. Dwight recognized Sergeant Reeve. The coin dropped, and he realized that Reeve was the man command would put in charge if he showed any sign of defaulting.

"I am in command of this unit here, Sergeant." Dwight injected every ounce of authority into his voice, hoping it would work. "This is for the good of our nation, for our species. Fighting each other will only speed up our extinction."

"_And you would presume to know more about your orders than your superiors?" _a slight pause. "_Sergeant Dwight, I am taking over this mission, on the authority of the United States Army. You are relieved of duty. Stand down."_

"Asshole." Lykins murmured.

"Engage the newcomers, and we all die. Help them, we give ourselves a fighting chance. Do not throw away the lives of good men and women, Goddammit!"

"_All units, proceed on current objectives, engage and destroy all new contacts." _ The link went dead.

"Sir," the helicopter pilot said quietly. "I did not hear that last command."

"Neither did I." Lykins added in.

"Must've been comm problems, sir." Another trooper said.

"I don't wanna fucking die."

Dwight grinned.

"Let's go save some metal robots, boys."

**0230 hours, Fairfield City Central, Brother Captain Avrus Destrol, Purgation Run 2, two blocks away from Mercy Hospital.**

Captain Destrol dove aside as a massive fist crushed the car he was standing on moments earlier. He rolled and swung his power sword with all his might. Sanctified blade met unholy flesh as the tank was cleaved neatly in half, lengthwise.

"Captain," an honor guard marine approached him, white armor drenched with red. "This sector is clear, we can proceed."

Destrol nodded, and sheathed his sword. He turned to his brothers, who were finishing off the last of the warp-spawn in the area. The dreadnoughts were milling about, one idly picked up a car to examine it.

They had suffered almost no losses during the purge, although any sign of the first purgation force has yet to be seen. Destrol feared the worst for them, but he put those fears aside, for if they had died, they would die serving the Emperor.

"CAPTAIN…." One of the dreadnoughts rumbled. "REQUEST…PERMISSION…TO MOVE AHEAD…TO THE NEXT BLOCK."

"Go, brother. Do us proud. And save some for us."

The dreadnought turned and stomped down the streets, the other walkers in tow. It managed to take three steps before it exploded in a shower of debris and torn ceramite.

"INCOMING!" Destrol roared as his brothers dove for cover, the dreadnoughts roaring with rage, looking for the aggressor.

Two black shapes screamed through the sky, strafing the area with rockets. Several marines were torn apart by direct hits, while most returned fire. Black shapes emerged from the sky vessels, firing as they descended. Their shots were accurate, but useless as the bullets pinged harmlessly off Space Marine armor.

One of the vehicles was torn apart by combined bolter fire, it spun wildly before slamming to the ground, erupting in a massive fireball. The other was luckier, it managed to take off before being vaporized by the lascannons of the Predator Tanks close by.

"TAKING FIRE!" the captain of Destrol's honor guard roared out, being the master of the obvious.

"_Predator Detachment 1 here," _A clipped voice sounded in Destrol's ear. "_We're flanking the fools from the rear."_

"_Purgation Squad 1, we shall support the Predators."_

"Negative, brothers." Destrol ordered. "Stay put, we will handle this." He brandished his sword and emerged from cover. "BROTHERS, IN THE NAME OF THE EMPEROR, ADVANCE!"

The marines stepped from cover, massive, armored forms striking fear into the enemy as they advanced, bullets bouncing harmlessly off them. Bolter fire ripped apart the enemy lines, detonating into unarmored flesh.

Grenades and missiles streaked from the enemy ranks, doing only minimal damage to the advancing marines. They had taken the life of a venerated brother who served the Emperor even in death, there would be no mercy for these upstarts.

"Fall back!" Came a voice from the enemy lines, and the cowards started retreating, some in order, some in blind panic. The ones that broke cover were cut down mercilessly by a hail of bolter fire.

The others made it to safety, only to come face-to-face with three very angry dreadnoughts, each one seeming to be the size of a small house to the fear-stricken heretics. Some threw down their weapons and knelt, others tried to dodge around the walkers. They were plucked up by massive claws and had their lives crushed from them.

Destrol approached calmly, watching their new aggressors. They looked military, clad in black armor and in odd headgear that made them look like insects. His brothers walked amongst the remains of the heretic dead, putting bolt rounds through the survivors.

"Please…." One of the soldiers begged. "We were only following orders, please, I have a family!"

"There can only be one sentence for raising arms against the Emperor's Finest." Destrol glared at the sheer cowardice of the man.

Some of the cowards began to sob quietly, Destrol identified several female voices amongst them. He pointed his bolt pistol at the one who begged earlier.

"Who sent you?"

"U-u-u-united S-s-sta-t-tes Army, sir," he managed, flinching as the bolt pistol grew closer to his face.

"What is that gibberish?"

"Its o-our government, sir, o-or what was left of i-it. We're a-all that's left of the army."

"Why would you attack us?"

"O-o-orders s-s-sir. We had no choice."

Destrol remained silent. This act of hostility was unprecedented, but hardly a problem. If the sniveling bastard was right, then this United States no longer posed a direct threat. The purge would continue as planned.

"Please let us live, sir." A female soldier said from the group. "Sergeant Reeve is right, we had no choice but to attack. We don't pose any threat to you any longer, just let us go."

Destrol paused.

"You are right," he said. "You no longer pose any threat to us." He turned to the captain of his honor guard. "Kill them all."

They barely had time to scream before a volley of bolt rounds tore them apart.

There was a silence, then the howling of warp-spawn sounded anew.

"We move on."

**0300 hours, Mercy Hospital Rooftop, Librarian Joseph Niveh, 30 minutes after US Army contact with Space Marines.**

"Incoming!" Sergeant Argus roared, and fired a full burst from his storm bolter into the oncoming debris. I tracked the source of the rubble and incinerated the tank with my staff. I lost count of how long I have been up on this infernal roof, and how many zombies I have killed.

I was getting weaker.

_There is still hope, heed my word, and your brothers will survive this ordeal._

I brushed aside the small voice in my head, which had been there ever since a bloody tank threw a chunk of floor at my head. It was probably a mere daze, I should see an Apothecary soon. If we lived that long.

_You can._

Experience told me that it may be more and far worse than just a daze, but at this point, there was nothing I could do save ignore it.

The area around the bunker was full of corpses, most were shredded or even liquefied by our combined fire, but thousands more littered the area. They were piled up so high, that the infected now had a makeshift bridge to the top of the bunker. To the rear of our lines however, were the bodies of several Space Marines, unlucky enough to be killed in the lines.

"Hunters incoming!" Argus called out again. "Reform the perimeter, establish your killing zones. For the Emperor!"

The Hunters, individually were not a problem. But when they pounced em mass, they could cause chaos amongst our lines. The marines moved with the ease of veterans, but with every failed assault the enemy made, and every second our extraction failed to arrive, their morale would slowly decline.

The dark shapes leapt forward, eager of throwing away their lives on our faith. As the marines opened fire, shredding the Hunters with concentrated bolter fire, I saw tongues flicker out from the dark. Hundreds of them.

I raised my staff and sent my will outwards in a wall of bright light, shielding my battle-brothers from harm, the tongues that came in contact with the shield were incinerated, as were the Hunters that collided with it.

It felt as if my mind had run into a solid wall, pain stabbed through my skull, and the shield collapsed. I dropped to one knee, leaning on my staff, the polished handle charring slightly.

"Brother," Argus boomed form somewhere nearby. "We have to hold, Emperor keep you strong." His arm grasped mine and hauled me up, handing me a stimulant kit as I rose.

"Contact, up above!" A marine shouted. "The air vessel is coming around again!"

I glanced up, and true enough, the military helicopter that we had spotted earlier had doubled back, this time, heading straight for us.

"Hold fast brothers!" I said, trying to project an aura of calm around me. "Help is on the way!"

"We all cannot fit into that box." Argus pointed out.

"True, but they can send for our brothers, even call more of their comrades. Either way, it's a way out." I said.

The four survivors had joined us on the rooftop, trying not to slip on the blood and bolter casings that littered the floor. They paled at the carnage.

"Pickup!" Zoey shouted over the roar of gunfire. "At last!" she let out a whoop of joy.

"Hey!" Louis joined in, waving his arms. "Over here!"

Despite the incoming helicopter, the marines did not relent, nor did they slow down. They mowed down the infected with grim efficiency, the Assault Marines keeping the closest at bay with their chainswords.

A tank tried to rush a slight gap in the Space Marine lines, Argus swatted it down with his Power Fist, then emptied an entire clip from his Storm Bolter into the monstrosity's face. The foul thing came apart, and slid back down the corpse pile.

The black aircraft had come so close that I could see the interior of the craft through the cockpit. It was packed with black-suited soldiers, all of them heavily armed.

"_Tac Recon 1 here," _the spare radio that I attached to my armor chirped. "_You boys need a hand?" _

_A token of my goodwill. Accept the help I offer, and I will get all of you out alive._

"This is Librarian Joseph Niveh of the Temple Chapter," I said. "We are in a bit of a tight spot. How can you assist us?"

"_Of the what?" _The pilot spluttered. "_Never mind, we can't pick you up with one helicopter, none of ya'll look like you can fit in here anyway. We got firepower, for one."_

"Unless you have enough firepower to clear out everything in this frakking hospital, I doubt you will be of much use. Can you contact more Spa- of my kind?" I hastily corrected.

"COVER THE HELICOPTER!" Marcus roared, joining us up top. "DO NOT LET THEM DO SO MUCH AS PISS ON IT!"

The marines responded with alacrity, picking off the hunters and smokers as they tried to attack the helicopter.

The aircraft lifted itself clear of the entire rooftop, and returned to circling the hospital. That way, the chances of it catching a Hunter on its blades were less.

"_That…would be a negative…Librarian." _The pilot said. "_Our buddies, well, let's say we've got a little, misunderstanding with your boys. Hang on."_

A new voice came over the comm.

"_This is Sergeant Terry Dwight, Tac-recon Charlie Bravo. Physical contact with the rest of your kind will not be possible, we'll explain in full detail once you boys are outta that tight spot."_

"And how would you plan on assisting us?" I asked, my mind racing to come up with a solution.

_Accept my help, and I shall deliver you from the mouth of hell itself. Save yourself, and the data you carry, the others are but a small price to pay in return for the power to save your entire Chapter. _

"_NO!"_ I screamed in my mind, lashing out at the imaginary voice. Librarians not only received the training of regular Space Marines, they also underwent vigorous Psyker training, and I knew that this was no imagination in my head. "_Begone daemon!"_

The helicopter circled for a few more minutes, and finally swooped downwards towards the bunker once more. The blades on the vessel drowning out the laughing of the daemon. The zombies rushed forward with even greater vigor at the sound, and the Space Marines renewed their defense with alacrity, pushing back the undead with bolter and chainsword.

"_I can pick up one of ya'll to come with me," _Sergeant Dwight said. _"If yer boys see one of yer own with us, then maybe they'll be less likely to shoot us outta the sky."_

"I hear you Sergeant." I replied, the daemon's words echoing in my mind. "One of my own shall accompany you."

"_You ain't coming?" _Dwight sounded surprised.

"No, my place is here with my brothers." I replied. I turned to Marcus, who stared at me with his skull helmet.

"You embody the faith of our brothers," I told him. "It is fitting that you go to bring us salvation. The word of a Chaplain will go to great lengths to convince our brothers that we need aid."

Marcus snorted.

"A glorious term for a messenger boy, don't you think?" He sighed. "Very well, if that is what's required of me, then I shall do it." He turned to the other marines. "AND DON'T YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT SLACKING OFF WHEN I'M GONE, OR BY THE EMPEROR I WILL STICK BOTH BOOTS SO FAR UP YOUR ASS THAT YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO FUCKING SHIT FOR CENTURIES!"

The marines and Francis cheered the Chaplain as the helicopter descended even lower to pick up the massive Space Marine. Before he went, I handed him the precious tome of data disks that held so much information of this pre-Imperium Terra. The daemon was right, the knowledge was far more valuable than all of their lives put together. But I would not play to its tune.

"Take this brother, and give it to Sergeant Teras of the 1st Company. He will know what to do with it." I said. "Within this tome lies the key to all that has happened here, and maybe even more. Guard it with your life."

The Chaplain accepted the tome, the disks looking small and insignificant in his massive gauntlet. The big man nodded.

"A fucking messenger boy, and now a book-reading milksop's assistant." He sighed. "The other Chaplains will never let me live this down. Stay alive brother, I shall not suffer this humiliating downgrading only to have you all killed when I returned."

I smiled, used to Marcus's humor.

"We have no intention of dying yet, brother. We are Space Marines, we do not die easily, for we-"

_ "Uh, boys?"_ Dwight interrupted. _"Hate to interrupt your buddy chat, but we really need to get going."_

"For fuck's sake, GO!" Zoey shouted at them.

Several black-suited troopers leapt from the helicopter and joined the marines on the bunker top. They held their weapons with professional ease that would rival even the Guardsmen of Cadia.

"_Some of my boys will held you hold the line. From what I see, ya'll may not need them, but hey, every little bit helps, dunnit?"_

"Thank you Sergeant. Emperor speed." I said.

"Go get em, big man!" Zoey whooped.

"Yeah, get more tin men over here, fucking great." Francis said.

I turned to the biker.

"You never fail to piss on everything do you?" I said in amusement.

Marcus clambered aboard the helicopter, which lurched slightly to compensate for his immense weight and size. The vessel lifted off and swung about, preparing to reach salvation.

I turned to the new soldiers, who were trying not to stare at the huge marines mowing down the enemy by the hundreds.

"Stay at range, behind my brothers, and use your weapons as you see fit." I told them. "Prioritize on the special infected, leave the big ones to us." I pointed to Bill. "Consider this man your superior officer. Now go."

The soldiers deeply resented being led by a civilian, much less an old man that looked like he was long overdue for his bottle of liquor. But they weren't that keen on disobeying an order from a Space Marine that easily dwarfed them either.

They scurried off to their positions, Bill regaining some of his old military shine. I turned back to look at the disappearing helicopter.

The vessel had cleared the hospital when at least twenty smoker tongues shot out from the darkness, wrapping itself firmly around the various struts and protrusions of the helicopter. The helicopter lifted itself higher, tearing off a few of the tongues, but more shot out, fully snaring the flying vessel. The pilot fought valiantly to bring the helicopter under control, but the combined might of the horde of smokers yanked it out of control. The helicopter tilted sharply, and careened into a nearby building with a crash that was heard even from the top of the hospital. The vessel smashed into the surface of the small building, and within seconds, was completely swallowed up by the darkness.

There was a stunned silence as the defenders tried to fully comprehend what had just happened. The marines merely turned back to the killing, outwardly stoic, but I could feel their despair crashing in like waves over crumbling rock. Zoey had paled, crumpling into Bill's stunned frame, sobbing. Louis gaped, his weapons clattering to the ground. Francis looked lost.

"No….no no no no." Zoey whispered, and even with the screaming of the zombies, we all heard her.

_My token of goodwill, can be a double edged sword._


	12. Chapter 12 & Epilogue

**Hi All, here is the final chapter at last. I have no excuses for being late, minus entering University in another country haha. I would like to dedicate this Chapter to Brother of the Moon, for his constant kicking me off my lazy ass. To all you guys who were awesome enough to drop me a review or a fav, this is for you too. Without you words of encouragement and support, I would not have finished this story. I mean that. **

**If any of you have any questions of doubts, drop me a PM, and I WILL reply :)**

**Belexar: The whole 'Daemon in the head' thing, I'm planning to leave as a mystery for later. Think of it as a possible opening for a sequel which I might do if the response is good ;)**

**Everyone else: My days have been made with your words. Hope you have a great time reading it as I did writing it. As always, drop a review! :D**

* * *

**0400 hours, in the vicinity of Mercy Hospital, Sergeant Terry Dwight, five minutes after helicopter crash.**

He remembered a sickening lurch, screaming, and blind panic. Next came the pain, it was everywhere, as if something had just spliced him into pieces then put him back together. He groaned and tried to move, but failed, his limbs simply wouldn't respond. He dimly felt someone moving under him, but couldn't see who, everything was pitch black.

He vaguely heard someone calling him, more like bellowing in his ear, a deep, metallic voice mouthing obscenities that even he didn't know about.

"SERGEANT! GET UP OR BY THE WARP I'LL USE YOU AS A CUISHION AGAIN!"

So that's why he hurt so badly. Bastard. He opened his eyes to see a skull with burning red eyes glaring at him.

"Aren't you a little too small for the devil?" He managed.

Chaplain Marcus swatted him with his free hand, which felt like a hammer blow to the head. It also cleared away the fuzziness he felt upon waking.

"I'm worst then your bloody devil." Dwight realized that the chaplain was whispering, but even then, it felt as if the big man was shouting. "and give thanks that you only have one devil to contend with. We have four, and still we're alive, that makes your lot a bunch of pussies, how you evolved into us, I have no frakking idea, Emperor preserve me."

Not knowing how to reply to that, Dwight contented himself by trying to move. The helicopter had slammed into a nearby building, the impact crushing the vehicle like a tin can. If weren't for Marcus standing over him, he would have been pulped. Not that he felt _that_ much better.

Something beneath him was still squirming.

"Terry, for God's sake, get the fuck off me." Came the muffled voice of Lykins.

"Sarah!" He shouted with elation. "Hang on, thank God you made it."

"This isn't an action movie, can the cheesy lines, just get the hell off me, sir."

Marcus snorted and merely stood up. Metal screeched and tore as the Chaplain burst through the wreckage. Suddenly free of the massive weight pinning him, Dwight shifted himself off Lykins, dusting himself off.

"You couldn't do that earlier?" Dwight grumbled, rubbing sore limbs.

Marcus shrugged.

"Your other man needed to wiggle free before I could free us all. Otherwise, I would have shredded him."

Dwight spun around to see another of his men leaning against the wreckage. The man gave him a tired wave.

"Glad to see you made it out sir, if the big man here couldn't wake you up, I don't think anyone else could."

Dwight nodded.

"How many made it?"

He shrugged.

"Just me sir, Rolly and Jack didn't make it. Pilot too."

"Shit." He sighed, and looked around at the wreckage. Each man he lost was like losing the fingers on each hand. They were tough enough to survive the initial infection, and the months after that, their loss was a blow to mankind.

"Salvage any weapons you can find, or any gear that survive the crash. God knows, we're gonna need them."

The three commandos set to work with grim determination, salvaging what they could from the wreck. The Chaplain wandered around the pitch black area, idly swinging his massive eagle-headed staff, which gave off a blue crackle of energy, lighting up the area somewhat.

"Any idea where we are?" Dwight asked.

"Smells bad enough for us to be in hell." Sarah added.

The Chaplain glanced at them, his eyes burning red orbs in his helmet.

"It would seem as if we have crashed at least a block away from the hospital." He glanced back at the darkness, which perturbed him none the slightest. "Judging by all the fucking screaming, we're still in the middle of shithead territory. How many fucking people are there in this city? I reckon we must have killed almost a million already!"

Dwight shrugged.

"No idea, they seem to be coming in from all over the city, that means a whole city at one small point. You boys got your work cut out. Why haven't they swarmed us yet?"

The Chaplain barked out with laughter.

"The smaller ones are too busy with running at the hospital."

Dwight nodded, then froze mid nod.

"Wait a sec," he managed to blurt out. "Did you say the smaller ones?"

The Chaplain brandished his staff, which crackled with even greater intensity.

"You didn't think we were alone all this while, did you?"

As if on cue, the darkness before them was peppered with red lights. No, not lights, eyes.

Dwight's blood turned cold. He had encountered these special types of Whiskey Deltas once before, the crazy bitch had shredded five men before going down in a hail of bullets. That had been only one, and the darkness was filled with red eyes.

"Oh shit…" Lykins whispered, not even daring to breath.

"Drop the gear, grab what you can." Dwight whispered back. He grabbed a battered assault rifle, giving thanks when he found that it still worked. He tossed a pistol to the other trooper.

"Doyle, here."

The man snapped out of his stunned stupor, and accepted the weapon.

"Uhhh, Chaplain," He said as softly as he could. "What do we do now?"

The Chaplain seemed calm, his eyes burning a brighter red then the horde around him. He drew his bolt pistol, the other hand holding his staff.

"Stand back, do not shoot me." He said without turning taking his eyes off his enemies. The eyes seemed to grow closer, and Dwight could hear the deep growling that these bitches were known for, right before they tore out someone's throat.

"They're checking us out," Doyle muttered, his sentence punctuated with a colorful mixture of swearing and prayers. "Sizing us up for slaughter."

"They ain't taking us that easy," Lykins reassured him. "Not with the big man there."

The Chaplain stood undaunted as the witches came closer, calmly holding his weapons, waiting for them to get closer.

"Get to cover, sergeant." He told them, rather quiet for someone like him.

Dwight led the remnants of his team into the wreckage of the helicopter, where the twisted steel would offer the most cover. He fought off the mental image of the wreckage being his tomb, as it almost was ten minutes earlier.

Marcus stared for a moment at the approaching witches. Some came close enough to be illuminated by the light given off by his weapon. The fiends uttered low, angry growls as the light touched their pallid skin. The chaplain, as if making up for his earlier silence, let loose a deafening roar.

"FUCK YOU BITCHES!" He shouted. "THINK YOU CAN COME UP HERE AND SCARE US WITH YOUR PANSY-ASS EYES! FUCK YOU, I'M SCARIER THEN THE LOT OF YOU PUT TOGETHER!"

The witches shrieked, and some shrank back, their movements sluggish, as if his words burned them. Most just shrieked, and shot forward, clawed arms extended.

"IN THE EMPEROR'S NAME! YOU SHALL KNOW MY FURY!" The Chaplain roared, and charged forward to meet his foes. His Crozius pulped the closest witch, bolt pistol shredding another's head. He swung his staff and gun in perfect tandem that was startling for someone of his size and demeanor.

His staff lashed out in controlled, merciless strikes, and with every flash of the Crozius, witches screamed their last as their bodies were crushed under the furious assault of the space marine chaplain. He punctuated every blow with profanities and oaths, and Dwight never heard the same one twice. His shouts were punctuated by the barks of his bolt pistol, and the abruptly silenced screams of his victims.

"Holy shit…." Doyle muttered.

"We should help him out." Lykins said.

" He seems more then capable of handling himself." Dwight said. "Don't draw attention to ourselves, we don't want the lot of them coming down here."

The witches were fast, but Marcus was faster. He never moved two inches away from his initial standing spot, his body and weapons moving so quickly that the witches did not even get the chance to latch on to him.

Dwight turned to say something to Doyle when a screaming face launched itself towards him, claws extended. The bitch slammed into the sergeant head-on, knocking him off his feet, his weapon clattered to the ground.

He struggled to keep the claws from tearing off his face as Lykins tackled the witch off him, she slammed the small frame of the creature into a bulkhead, and fired off several bursts into the witch's head, silencing the fiend.

Doyle fired at several witches that rushed them, their frail forms soaking up his shots like a sponge. Dwight picked up his weapon and joined in, adding his fire to the chaos. Dwight and Lykins' hollow point rounds dealt horrific damage to the witches, and while they could shrug aside considerable damage, many succumbed to combined fire.

Marcus had dropped his empty bolt pistol, and now fought with his Crozius and an armored gauntlet, which seemed to do as much damage as a battering ram. He grabbed witches and flung them back into the darkness, the shroud not impeding his combat prowess in the slightest as he showed the Witches why the Space Marines were considered the Emperor's finest.

The U.S. Commandos, however, fared less well. The darkness prevented them from seeing their targets clearly, and the shouting of the chaplain and the screaming of everything else plunged the three into utter chaos. They tossed a few grenades outwards, away from the chaplain, and were rewarded with renewed cries of agony.

Dwight emptied his clip into a moving shape in the dark, the figure crumpled, but another one behind it leapt over its fallen brethren and crashed into Lykins. Trooper and witch crumpled, both screaming, one in fear, the other in rage.

"Cover me!" Doyle bellowed and charged the witch. Dwight reloaded and started firing into the dark again, this time taking more careful aim, the Chaplain's furious shouting ringing in his ears.

Doyle turned to cover the Sergeant, firing his pistol into the darkness.

Dwight put five rounds rapid into the screaming witch, the 5.56mm rounds pulping the creature's skull. He pulled Lykins to her feet, and turned to help Doyle, emptying the remainder of his clip into the howling forms in the darkness.

The sergeant reached for another clip on his belt, and discovered that it was the last one.

"Last mag!" He shouted.

"We gotta move!" Lykins replied.

She was right. There were too many Witches running about, too many for even the Chaplain to kill. He may be able to hold out for long periods of time, but the commandos didn't have a prayer.

A screeching sound sent jolts of fear through Dwight's spine. He snapped his rifle upwards, and his fears were confirmed. The already-mangled steel of the helicopter roof was being torn open, and clawed hands reached through the cracks in the metal. The jagged edges of the torn roof slashed open the wrists and arms of the reaching Witches, but it did little to hinder the monstrosities as they howled their rage at the commandos.

Images of the helicopter becoming their tomb swam through Dwight's mind, and he fought them off with desperate strength.

"Chaplain, help!" He shouted, hoping that the Space Marine could hear him through the din. Doyle ran past him, firing upwards as he went, his pistol doing little to stop the Witches from widening the gap on the roof.

"Gimme a hand here!" He yelled at the other two commandos. Lykins and Dwight rushed to cover him, desperately trying to stop the Witches from attacking from the top, all while keeping the other from rushing them from the front.

The Chaplain sounded closer, and Dwight sensed that the marine was moving towards them. Hope surged through him, and he turned back to the roof, firing his rifle in short bursts. He shot another witch through the face, then turned to face another. This time, his rifle clicked instead of its throaty roar.

"Fuck! I'm out!" He shouted.

Lykins covered him, while he looked around frantically for another weapon.

Doyle tossed him an iron bar, that was formerly a helicopter railing, ripped free by the impact. Dwight accepted the weapon, and Doyle gave him a thumbs up, before his face was torn off by a screaming Witch from above.

"Man down!" He screamed, rushing the Witch with the bar, slamming into the creature, smashing the bar indiscriminately into the struggling figure beneath him, his mind blinded by rage. All he could do was repeatedly hammer the iron bar into the screaming Witch until it stopped moving. Then he realized that everything was quiet, save for his screaming.

"Sarge? Dwight, it's over." Lykins was staring at him, her shock visible through her gas mask and helmet.

He rose shakily, his hands shaking slightly, the iron bar dripping with blood. He forced himself to look at the mangled corpse beneath him, and he had to fight down the urge to throw up. The Witch was almost unrecognizable, its entire skull almost ripped off by his blows. He kicked it off Doyle's body, and stared at his comrade for a moment.

Corporal James Doyle no longer had a face, what used to be his head was now brutally torn off by the claws of the Witch. His fingers still clutched his pistol, which Dwight gently pulled from him. The sergeant picked up a piece of wreckage to cover his friend, then froze.

"He did what he had to," Lykins. "We gotta move too, before they come back."

"Let's go." He said, staring at his friend again. What he saw for a split-second was probably part of his fevered imagination, his friend no longer had a face, it would be foolish to imagine that Doyle would have any form of expression remaining. He covered Doyle with a piece of wreckage, and stood.

The Chaplain stomped towards them, blood dripping off his weapons and his armor, giving the matte black ceramite a dark red tint.

"You fought well for squishies," he said. "They have fled for now…pussies. The might of the Emperor's finest is too much for them to bear!"

"I've fought these Witches before," Dwight replied," they don't run, never. Something is wrong."

The chaplain shrugged.

"Yet they do now," he looked around, and snorted in disgust at the last fleeing shapes. "Think I'm scary? Wait till you see the _other_ chapter, where _all of those marines_ are like me." The area around them was strewn with the corpses of Witches, all of them smashed and thrown about like ragdolls. It was a welcome change, to see these creatures broken for once. "Let us keep moving, it would be fucking stupid to sit around and talk about the strategies of frakheads like these."

Lykins clapped him on the shoulder in a 'let's go' gesture, she reloaded her rifle and followed the Chaplain.

After a moment, Dwight followed too, taking care not to slip in the pools of congealing blood and mutilated limbs.

**4010 hours, Mercy Hospital Rooftop, Zoey, 15 minutes after helicopter crash.**

"My Lord," the inhumanly deep voice of the Terminator sergeant boomed. "We are unable to determine if there were any survivors in the crash. Auspex scans do not detect any signs of life, we presume the city is still interfering with our devices."

Librarian Joseph Niveh looked tired, his eyes were lined with the fatigue that comes with the burden of keeping his men alive, and the knowledge that he would not succeed.

"Even if they made it out," he said. "The swarm will have killed them." He rose from his kneeling position, breaking his meditative trance. He looked out at the horde before him, endless in number, stretching out as far as his enhanced eyes could see, all of them pouring towards the tiny bunker, guarded by a mere handful of white-armored space marines, and the smaller black-clad U.S. commandos.

After the crash, the morale of the commandos and the survivors had plummeted. Military discipline had ensured that they kept fighting, but hope was a far more potent weapon, and it had died with the chopper. The Space Marines had their faith, and would die fighting, but even the Emperor's Angels of Death were, ultimately, human. Augmented to the brim, but still human.

"Space Marines, Survivors, Brothers." The Librarian spoke, his voice barely audible over the screaming of infected and the roar of gunfire, but somehow, Zoey could hear him as clearly as if he stood right next to her.

If this had been a movie, the infected would have stopped attacking, just so the defenders could listen to the rousing speech. But this was far from a movie, so the Space Marines and commandos kept fighting, while the Librarian's voice echoed in their minds.

"We have come to Ancient Terra with the noblest of purposes, to cleanse the lands so that the Emperor's servants may grace it long after we have gone. But now, this purpose can no longer come to fruition."

Niveh's gaze swept over his brothers, fighting with boltgun and chainsword, and now fists, side by side with the civilians they were here to secure a future under the Emperor's light for. His face was lined with exhaustion, but his eyes burned with zeal.

"Our purge has faltered, and we now make our last stand here. All hope we may have had of accomplishing our mission has died with Chaplain Marcus and the chopper."

"The fuck is he doing?" Bill hissed. "He has an impulse to make things worse or what?"

"Though the Emperor's time may not have come for now, yet it is to His presence to our souls go to for our final judgment. Brothers, how we end tonight, will forever be remembered in the halls of the Emperor's finest." He turned to the commandos, many of which were staring at him.

"Mere men would throw down their arms and cower in fear before what we face today, but we are not mere men! We are Space Marines! We know no fear, for we are fear incarnate! And I shall not die with my back to a wall, cornered by putrid foes, waiting for death to strike!"

The marines let out a short cheer, which was quickly drowned out by gunfire and screams once more.

"There will be no more retreat! There will be no more hiding! There will be no more skulking in the dark! It is time we end this by means of our choosing."

He turned back to his brothers in the front line; his staff cracked with energy as his face glowed with psychic buildup and renewed fervor. He continued more quietly, although his voice boomed in their heads.

"No living creature will remember us, now, nor our sacrifice, save the Emperor Himself. So we shall carve our own memorial into the very souls of the enemy! They shall remember us when we kill them! Their very last thoughts will be of our fury as we strike them down! Brothers, for the Emperor, KILL THEM ALL!"

The Space Marines, having pent up their frustration at being forced on the defensive all this while, let loose a earthshaking roar as they finally showed the infected why they were considered the Emperor's Finest.

Sergeant Argus raised his Power Fist.

"FOR CHAPTER AND EMPEROR, CHARGE!" He boomed. At his cry, the Assault Terminators that have been pent up in the bunker below burst out, charging through walls and slamming into the infected horde with fury that was second to none, reinforced by several hundred tons of Storm Shields and Terminator Armor.

The marines on the bunker leapt from their positions and charged behind their Terminator brothers, unleashing withering volleys of the last bolter rounds they had. Squad Tarus's Assault Marines soared overhead, slamming into solid masses of zombies, clearing the way for their brothers, their chainswords buzzing angrily.

Even the smaller shapes of the U.S. commandos followed suit, sheltered by the power armor of the space marines, they took more careful aim, taking out special infected as they charged. Many died, snatched up by smokers or disappearing under hordes of zombies, but those that survived kept on fighting.

All save four.

The survivors stood on top of the ruined bunker, staring forlornly at the carnage as their last hope of survival carried out a suicide charge into the horde of zombies below. A couple of commandos trooped up to them, their weapons dangling uselessly from their arms.

"Well, what do we do now?" Zoey asked quietly, having no energy left to even look away from the carnage.

"We're fucked." Francis said. "In every fucking direction. Rescue ain't gonna come, so we'd best do as those tinheads did. Heck, at least we'll take out some with us."

Bill remained silent. He fished out his pack of cigarettes from his jacket. He pulled out a cancer stick, then handed the pack to Francis. The biker stared at the old man.

"You're giving me one of your smokes? Holy shit…"

Bill ignored him, and lit his own cigarette, holding out the lighter to Francis. The big man shrugged, and took one from the pack, lighting up and at Bill's gesture, passed the pack around.

The grateful commandos each took one, removing their helmets for one last smoke before they all died. Zoey was surprised to see that one commando was a very young woman, almost as young as her. The commando gave her a weary smile.

"Here kid," Bill handed her the last cigarette. "Bout time you tried one. Sorry I have nothin' else to give ya."

Zoey shrugged.

_We've got chased by bloodthirsty zombies through the fucking city, rescued and simultaneously screwed over by space marines, and now cornered and left to die. Heck, one cigarette ain't gonna hurt._

She lit up and inhaled, resisting the temptation to cough violently. Bill grinned.

"You got a lotta stones in ya kid." He said, his eyes betraying his emotions. "Wish I had known all of ya sooner."

Louis clapped him on the shoulder, giving the old man a tired smile.

"You're alright too, old man." Francis muttered under his breath, under a cloud of smoke.

They turned and stood together, watching as one by one, the guns of the space marines fell silent.

**0500 hours, Fairfield City Center, First Company, One Hour later.**

It was with the first light of dawn that the First Company struck deep into the core of the infected zone, striking with the fury and precision that was unrivalled by anything that Ancient Terra would ever see for millennia to come.

They had systematically cleansed the infection block by block, until they came upon the largest and last concentration of infected around the hospital. It was brutal work, the kind Space Marines were made for.

The dreadnoughts lead the charge, heavy flamers and assault cannons carving bloody swathes through the zombies, their armored feet reducing the roads to splintered craters. They slammed into the horde head-on, their bulk crushing the smaller infected as they head directly towards the tanks, and proceeded to tear up the monstrosities.

Behind them came the honor guard of Brother-Captain Destrol, led by the big man himself. Their charge struck home in the wake of the Dreadnoughts trail of destruction, and they began cleaving deep into infected masses. No space marine, despite his skill and strength, could survive in the mass of the horde that size unaided, which was why Destrol immediately ordered his brothers into a spearhead of close-combat weapons, with Destrol at its tip.

The air around the Space Marines crackled with energy, the surrounding zombies backing away from the anomaly into the blades of the honor guard. Multiple thunderclaps reverberated through the screaming and gunfire to herald the arrival of several squads of Assault Terminators.

"In The Emperor's name, charge!" The Terminators roared and slammed into the mass of zombies, Thunder Hammers and Lightning Claws reducing infected to bloody ribbons. They waded through the sea of flesh with almost no hindrance, easily covering the flanks of the spearhead.

The Vanguard Veterans, the Chapter's deadliest close-combat warriors followed close behind, sallying forward to support the spearhead; striking at gaps in the mass of undead flesh and retreating before they could become encircled. Assault Marines lent their strength to the Vanguard's efforts, soaring overhead to take out groups of special infected and to meet Hunters in the skies.

The Dreadnoughts wreaked bloody havoc beyond the spearhead of marines, heavy flamers sending sheets of flame into the horde, roasting countless zombies alive while their claws crushed and tore the creatures to shreds. Tanks moved to engage the walkers, their muscled arms and fists pounding in vain at the armored ceramite and adamantium plates of the Dreadnoughts.

Destrol cleaved his way forward, his honor guard mercilessly cutting apart the snarling zombies with a vengeance. He felt as if a sea of flesh had engulfed him, with his every movement pushing through undead that would swarm through the gap that he would just clear. The screaming was horrendous, and without his auto-senses, he would be blind and deaf in the mass. Despite the swarm, his power armor and sheer strength allowed him to wade through the zombies with little effort. The spearhead advanced so quickly that they were in danger of leaving the rest of his forces behind. That would not do.

"Brothers, hold up!" Destrol voxed to his unit. "Hold them here, let none get pass your weapons." He switched to the heavy weapons channel. "Brothers, we require Devastator support. Move up the heavy weapons, cut them down from afar."

"_Copy that, Devastator squads moving to support."_

"Purgation Talon Squads One to Ten, move to support the Devastators, do not let any undead pass your lines."

"_In His name, Brother-Captain."_

The infected, initially having been thrown into confusion by the vicious charge, counterattacked with rage of their own. Scores of Hunters leapt from buildings, smashing marines off their feet, doing little damage but allowing the swarm to smother the cursing marine. The assault marines ignited their jump packs, meeting the leaping creatures in mid-air, their chainswords leaving dissected Hunters in their wake.

Smokers appeared in the dark windows of the abandoned buildings, their tongues snaring weapons and helmets of unwary marines. Destrol spotted one marine, ensnared by multiple tongues, being hurled into the mob. Tactical squads quickly formed into squares, laying down blistering volleys of bolter fire into the windows, pulverizing flesh and concrete alike.

The rearguard Terminator units quickly moved up to support their brothers, while dark, feminine shapes flitted amongst them, their claws scratching vainly against the ceramite plates of Terminator Armor. The bulk and weight of the Terminators made them unable to catch the fiends in the open, and their advance was bogged down.

"Purgation Talon One and Two, move to support our Terminator brothers!" The sergeants barked out orders, and two tactical squads peeled away from the front. Flamer marines hefted their weapons and let loose a curtain of flame directly into the Terminators, the blessed flame scorching the screaming fiends into a charred crisp. The waves of fire from the flamers set the whole area alight, momentarily swallowing their world in a furious red blaze.

When the fire subsided, no undead was left standing. The Terminators advanced through the blaze, their armor smoking slightly, giving them an ethereal terrifying presence.

"We shall repay this inconvenience to the enemy tenfold!" The Terminators roared, and charged towards the front lines, storm bolters barking, sending deadly bolts towards the mass of zombies.

Destrol hacked and cleaved with a contained fury that left his enemies in tattered remains before his boots. He felt, rather than heard the second Purgation unit punch through the infected mob from the adjourning street as the zombie waves shifted and swirled around them to meet the new threat.

"Our brothers have arrived to aid us at last." Destrol declared. "Push forward brothers, do not relent! Do not falter!"

While the first and second purgation units were punching through the zombie lines, the Devastator marines were systematically cleaning out the buildings overlooking the streets. All of them tall buildings, with many, many windows. Devastators took up positions in the windows, their heavy weapons primed and ready. Other squads of heavy weapon-wielding marines formed lines before the horde, the charging zombies facing down row after row of Heavy Bolter barrels and Lascannons.

This was the endgame tactic of the Space Marines of the Temple Chapter; melee units would spearhead an assault, then hold positions, not out of hesitation, but to allow twice the number of Devastator marines to form up behind them. Chapter tacticians called it the Firestorm, and the Devastators did not disappoint the name given to it.

"IN HIS NAME, UNLEASH OUR FULL FURY FROM AFAR!" The sergeant leading the squads roared. And at once, all the screaming, the shouting and the sounds of war were drowned out by the simultaneous roar of over a hundred heavy bolters opening fire, sending torrents of heavy rounds twice the size of standard bolts smashing into the whole horde of zombies. The dark of the morning was immediately set alight by thousands of heavy bolter rounds scything through the undead horde, complimented by the whine and hiss of Lascannon beams, which punctuated the dark with searing white-blue beams and Plasma bolts that struck with the power of a miniature sun , leaving massive black stains where they struck. The buildings seem to come alive as their windows seem to spit heavy rounds and beams of light at the horde of filth below.

The Devastator phalanx added their fire to the chaos, mowing down charging horde after horde in their steps, Plasma Cannons punching Predator-sized holes in the infected lines, while heavy bolters chewed up zombies and leaving behind pulpy mass. Hunters leapt from the dark, and the Devastators shifted their aim, tracer rounds stitching fire through the dark. Hundreds were killed in mid leap, their tattered remains splattering to the ground, if there were any remains left. Those that managed to land were crushed by armored boots and the swing of an armored fist.

The private vox channels of the Devastators were filled with target markings, focus fire orders and kill counts. They relished the battle as they unleashed the full fury of their heavy weapons from a distance.

"I can hear nothing else, brother!" Sergeant Lanius laughed over the roar of heavy bolters as he fought beside Destrol, his Lightning Claws flashing as he eviscerated scored of zombies with his deadly skill.

"Such is the fury of the Emperor's finest." Destrol said as he cleaved a tank asunder with his sword. "Brothers, our Devastators have left our enemy in tatters, push forward, and leave none alive!"

At his vox, the spearhead advanced, scything through zombies as they advanced, crushing the infected beneath their armored boots. The second unit pushed forward from their street, closing the infected in and allowing the heavy bolters from the buildings to cut them down.

The horde was now no longer a horde. The zombies were reduced to clusters of milling creatures which still tried to attack, and were mercilessly cut down. The special infected, with far more intelligence, turned to flee the killing fields as Assault Marines leapt forward to pursue them.

"Assault squads, fall back." Destrol voxed. He opened up another channel. "Thunderhawk Talon Wing, this is Brother-Captain Destrol."

"_Vox open, Brother-Captain, go ahead."_

"Commence bombing runs on targeted vectors, purgation spread." He marked the target zones on his tactical map so that the pilots could see them. "Surround and pursue any survivors."

"_Affirmative, brother. Commencing bombing rounds."_

Thunderhawk gunships streaked overhead, missiles streaked from their hulls, detonating amongst the fleeing hordes of specials. Those that survived the explosions of fire and shrapnel were torn apart by heavy guns. The formation of gunships peeled away to pursue lone groups that managed to escape.

Their work was still not done, as the Marine lines advanced into the former infected zone, cutting down survivors and milling groups. The Dreadnoughts had a thoroughly good time in cleaning up the horde, some dueled with remaining tanks, ripping the beasts apart leg to head and casually chucking the remnants away. A Dreadnought Destrol recognized as Brother Prax was dealing with three Tanks at once. The beasts hammered continuously at the hardened ceramite plating of the walker, as they swarmed over the ancient interred warrior. Prax allowed the beasts to continue hammering for a bit, then with a deep throaty mechanical chuckle, he punched his claws through the chests of two Tanks, spinning around rapidly to shear the top half off the third.

"Brothers," Destrol barked into the vox. "Break formation, cleanse this square!" His honor guard and the accompanying Vanguards dissolved the spearhead and charged the straggling groups of infected, hacking and slashing with undiminished zeal, but their discipline ensured that they did not pursue their foes too far. The fleeing infected would be cleaned off by the rearguard cordon, it would not concern them for now.

Destrol removed his helmet, the smell of decaying flesh replaced by burning promethium and the sizzling of charred flesh. The screaming had subsided into a mild annoyance in the distance, and Destrol knew that there was only the hospital that remained to be cleansed, there they would face the strongest concentration of infected, and there they shall have victory.

Lanius nudged the cleaved remains of a Tank with his boot; he casually flexed the crackling blades of his Lightning Claws, distaste evident on his face.

"Far inferior to any of the previous warp-spawn we have faced, brother." He said.

Destrol nodded.

"I feel that this is not the work of the Ruinous Powers, Lanius. We will need to bring samples to our Librarians and Apothecaries for analysis. If only Niveh had survived, he would have made sense of this whole mess."

"Would that be wise, brother-captain? We cannot risk taking this infection out of this planet."

"The samples will not leave the _Indomitable._ Have the Apothecaries collect samples from every strain of these beasts. By the Emperor, we will comprehend these creatures, so that we may prepare for them in the future."

Lanius bowed and started barking out orders to the Apothecaries that were wandering about the carnage, who were just as interested in the remains as Destrol was, but not without muttering something about 'pulling a Blood Raven stunt' under his breath.

Destrol ignored him and turned to the direction of the hospital. There was much work to do, and he grimly began to marshal his forces once more for the final push.

It never occurred to him that they had not found even one body from the first purgation force.

**0500 hours, Fairfield Hospital, Thunderhawk Talon Wing, Thunderhawk Talon Five, in pursuit of fleeing infected.**

"Target marked, brother."

"Fire away."

The twin autocannons on the underside of the gunship roared to life as the heavy rounds tore into the muscle of the Tanks with little effort. Missiles streaked from launchers to shred the smaller ones.

"By the Emperor, look at the sheer mass of them…" The pilot remarked.

The Thunderhawk was soaring low over the mass of infected attacking Mercy Hospital. From above it looked as if a massive tide of squirming limbs and rotting bodies were writhing their way out of the ground like mutated worms. It was hard to resist the urge to trigger all weapons to wipe the area clean of filth.

"All bottled up nicely, for us to wipe out in one single sweep." The gunner replied, the grin unmistakable in his voice.

The gunship let loose another volley of missiles that screamed over the horde and slammed into the buildings nearby, obliterating a nest of Smokers that were hiding inside.

"That's the last of them, take us above the skyline and circle the top of the hospital, we shall await further orders there." The pilot ordered.

The servitors wired into the gunships command frames clicked and whirred away tirelessly, imputing the new co-ordinates and flight paths.

The communications servitor started beeping loudly, the incessant whining heralding a new set of orders. The pilot flicked a glance at the words that swam across his tactical visor.

_**+++Priority Override Codes 092/3558 Alpha – Initiate immediate stand down protocols. Thunderhawk Talon Five shall disengage and receive redirection vectors towards Fairfield City Outskirts. [Uploading co-ordinates to navigation servitor] Remain in low circuit and avoid skyline patrols. The Emperor Protects+++**_

The gunner exhaled in frustration as the Thunderhawk swung around.

"And we were beginning to enjoy ourselves."

"True enjoyment is in doing the Emperor's work, brother." The pilot reminded him. "We will find other monstrosities to hunt."

Thunderhawk Talon Five swung around and its engines roared, sending the gunship speeding away from the hospital, and away from their chances of bringing hope to the defenders of Mercy Hospital.

**0530 hours, Unknown Structure, Chaplain Marcus, on approach towards second Space Marine Purgation Force.**

"So let me get this straight." Dwight said as he sent a trio of rounds into the chest of a charging zombie. The 5.56mm rounds tore through the rotting flesh of the zombie and sent another behind it sprawling. "You used to worship someone who used to walk amongst you, and still remains alive, centuries ago?"

"Yes." Marcus said without slowing as he plowed through masses of zombies, leaving the commandos to pick off the rest as they carried on their semi-blind rush towards the exit of the building. They had nothing but the screaming of the infected and Marcus's straining auto-senses to guide them, but as they progressed, the sounds of gunfire and battle intensified. Just as well, as Dwight had no idea how Marcus could hear anything else beyond his own shouting, which utterly overwhelmed the howling of the infected, and drew more of the zombies towards them.

"Hundreds of centuries actually, and some of our oldest Venerable Dreadnoughts had the honor of walking alongside the Emperor, but their minds grow feebler too, much like the old farts of genetically enhanced soldiers."

Dwight stifled a laugh at the mental image, and he sensed Lykins grinning at the same thoughts.

"From the little you have told me, you believe in something vaguely similar, this Jesus Christ of yours. Little bastard was a lot less crusade happy then our Emperor though."

It was ironic, Dwight thought, that the supposed basher of heretics was happily spouting blasphemes about almost everything else.

"His later followers more or less made up for it, so I guess you'll be happy to hear that." Lykins added in.

"Oh yes," Marcus nodded, his Crozius sweeping aside scores of zombies. "I guess you lot aren't so bad then."

"Had to interrupt the religious talk, but where exactly are we going again?" Lykins asked, and not for the first time either.

"No fucking idea." Marcus said happily, followed by a string of profanities at a Hunter that tried to jump him. "I'm carving out my own path."

Dwight and Lykins exchanged glances. For one of the Space Marine leaders, and a priest to boot, this man did very little to fill them with confidence. But beneath all the outward bluster, Dwight could sense a keen intelligence that would not be out of place in a company commander.

"The hell is that supposed to mean?" He snapped.

The chaplain sighed.

"I forgot how slow you squishes are." He grabbed a zombie and flung it over the heads of its grot-herding brethren. "All the fuckheads are running balls-first towards the hospital. The special grot-herders though, are smarter than the usual rotting idiot; they're running away from something. And one of the few things that can make even rotting corpses shit their blood-stained pants is a force of Space Marines, in a bad mood."

"Ah, good analysis." Dwight feverishly hoped that the rest of the Space Marines were not like him.

"Contact, up ahead!" Lykins shouted, snapping her rifle upwards to target a Hunter clinging to the wall. The bullets slammed into the beast but it leapt anyway, claws outstretched.

Almost casually, Marcus plucked the Hunter mid-leap, threw it to the ground and brought his armored boot down on it, pulping the hapless creature.

"From what I hear, not everyone worships the same God." Marcus went on. "I'm surprised you haven't killed each other yet."

"Oh we try," Lykins said. "Just haven't got to the genocidal stage yet."

Marcus barked out a short laugh.

"You should. It's easier that way, worshiping the same God. Less hassle. A broad mind lacks focus."

The two commandos wisely choose to remain silent.

"Hate to see what happened to choice in your timeline." Dwight muttered.

"Oh that's where I come in." Marcus said. "FUCK YOU! YOU LITTLE PUSSY LICKER! THINK YOU'RE GONNA GRAB ME WITH THAT LIMP NOODLE? FUCK YOU!" He grabbed the Smoker by its tongue and yanked so hard that the beast's head was torn off, strands of tongue flapping from its grotesque remains. "Those who question the Emperor's Will," he continued as if nothing happened. "I'll bash straight into the warp. Seems to be working fine all these millennia."

"Hey, they've stopped." Lykins said, looking around.

The flow of infected had indeed stopped, and it was suddenly eerily quiet, and the darkness seemed to promise more horrors at every turn. With the infected charging all the time, they had no need for much navigation save following the Chaplain and his shouting. Now, with the silence, all they had was the Chaplain's crackling Crozius for light, which played havoc with their night vision.

They crept forward, or rather, the two crept while the Chaplain stomped, their eyes peeled for any sign of movements. The darkness was so total that their night vision only revealed the gloom in a short range, and every movement cut through the dark by a fraction. Dwight found that the constant stream of zombies was much more comforting than the silent darkness. At least with the zombies he knew where to shoot.

"Do you hear that?" Marcus said suddenly to the two commandos. Dwight strained his ears and could pick up the chattering of heavy weapons fire, punctuated by loud thumps. The fire was sporadic, and was no longer the torrent of chaotic destruction they had heard earlier.

"Yeah, looks like your boys are winning."

"There was never any doubt. We are, after all-" He paused, helmet tilted to one side. Without another word, he abruptly turned and vanished through a gaping hole in the wall.

Dwight sighed, and turned to Lykins.

"I fucking hate that guy sometimes."

She chuckled.

"If weren't for him, we'll be dead several times over."

"Yeah, makes us feel rather useless."

"Heck, if we have a hulking two hundred ton armored meatshield to hide behind, I'd gladly feel useless. Beats being dead."

He grinned beneath his headgear. Lykins was always the pragmatist. He started to ask her about their ammo status but before he could open his mouth, the entire wall they were covering erupted in a cloud of debris and sound. Two massive shapes tumbled out from the new hole, and through the green haze of their night vision the commandos could make out the black armored form of the chaplain locked in a furious brawl with one of the heavily muscled Tanks.

This particular Tank was smaller than its usual kin, but it could still easily crush the two humans with its fists. The commandos dived for cover, bringing up their weapons but were unable to fire, more out of fear of annoying the Chaplain than for avoiding friendly fire.

Marcus's roaring, as usual, dwarfed the Tank's grunting, the Space Marine Chaplain landing strike after strike on the beast's unnatural muscle, punching chunks of flesh from the Tank. The beast was no slouch either, and the Chaplain had several new dents in his armor. The Chaplain dodged a wild fist, leapt away from the other blow and in the same motion, grabbed the passing fist and vaulted onto the creature's back with a grace that contrasted sharply with his size. The Tank roared with rage and tried to swat Marcus away, but the Chaplain clung on; he raised his Crozius and delivered two sharp blows to the beast's head. The crackling power weapon pulped the creature's head, but still it trashed wildly. Marcus leapt off its back, and slammed the Crozius into the Tank's chest in a sweeping uppercut, sending the beast sprawling to the ground, dead.

"Sonofabitch…" Dwight muttered, staring at the broken body of the Tank.

The Chaplain turned to face them, the skull helmet seemed to grin even wider.

"I found the building's exit." He announced with satisfaction, just as a beam of blue-white light exploded into the building, engulfing the three of them in a furious blaze.

**0600 hours, Mercy Hospital Rooftop, Librarian Joseph Niveh, Last Stand.**

As a Space Marine, we were all thought to hate our enemies on sight, without question. Hate, we learn, is our greatest weapon against the enemy, and faith our greatest shield. It is this hate that we draw upon when we smite our foes, and what makes us such deadly warriors.

Yet, there is no greater hatred than going face-on with the enemy that you _know_ will be your death; The pure hatred that comes with the knowledge that no matter how many snarling, spitting, rotting faces you cave in or burn away, it will be these faces that will eventually bore you to the ground and kill you. This hatred keeps your weapons steady with every strike when even other Space Marines would have fallen , and it also brings a sense of futility with each passing minute.

Our faith? Where do our souls go to when we die? To the Emperor, to stand by his side in the Final Battle, of course. But how can we commemorate our souls to His Majesty, if He had not even walked the earth yet? What use is faith when even the religion does not exist?

Heretical thoughts swam through my mind, whispers by the voice, occasionally slipping though my defenses to plague my mind was a far greater threat than the zombies at hand. I cannot fight a prolonged battle both mentally and physically, and I knew that my end was near. I would rather die than allow myself to succumb to cowardice and insanity.

I envied my brothers then, to be relatively protected from the whispers of insanity.

"Imperator, audi nos! Vade fallaciae!" I hissed, and the voice was silenced mid-whisper. My staff burned brighter with renewed energy. It would not last, but it would at least keep the whispers at bay.

"YOU WILL PAY DEARLY FOR OUR LIVES, FIEND!" Argus roared, firing his storm bolter at full auto, not even bothering to aim. There were so many of them, yet none could breach the wall of Terminators for long without them reforming. Many of his brothers were already dead though, unfortunate enough to be caught outside the protective phalanx.

"Close up left! Crassus and Titus, support the breach!"

Masses of Tanks had charged the phalanx, and despite the Storm Shields of the Assault Terminators, the beasts had broken through. The protective circle crumbled, and Tanks began pounding away at the marines within. Again.

I raised my staff and swept it along the length of the breach. The air crackled with energy as three Tanks were cleaved in half, the molecules of their mass liquidating, sending the beasts crumpling to join the hundreds of their kin on the ground. Hunter leapt from amongst the masses, slamming into unwary Marines, doing little damage but stumbling the warriors, allowing the swarm to engulf them. I threw out my hands, and waves of white fire swept the skies, turning the Hunters to ash.

"In war and death, be thou by sword and my shield." A brother muttered to himself as he slammed his combat knife into the chest of a Hunter, punching back nearby infected with his free hand. "With bolt and blade, let me be the tool of your wrath."

The Space Marines did not despair or falter; their faith and discipline ensuring their steadfastness in the heat of battle. But the fact that their holy gene-seed, the future of their Chapter would be left to the ravening maws of these abominations sent them into a state of holy fury, but also subtly sapped at their will. When brother after brother started falling, swallowed by the horde, many Marines began making final benedictions.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Argus fall, sandwiched between two Tanks. The Terminator Sergeant smashed a Tank aside with his Power Fist, but was hammered backwards by the other beast. More Tanks charged him, their fists raining down on the Terminator, bringing him down to his knees.

"Assault Marines, with me!" I shouted, charging the Tanks. My staff struck a Tank in its massive chest. The beast was hurled backwards in a flash of white light, and it hurtled off the rooftop, plummeting into the depths of the city below.

A roar of jump jets heralded the arrival of the Assault Marines as they slammed into the Tanks en mass, sending the creatures spinning to the ground and off the hospital roof. Their chainswords buzzed angrily as they carved chunks of flesh out of the Tanks. I found Brother Argus and tried to haul him to his feet.

"Brother Argus!" I tapped the Terminator Sergeant's helmet, looking for life-signs on my armor readouts and also with my mind. He was still alive, but stunned. We had no Apothecary with us, a severe mistake on our part, so I had no means of diagnosis.

"I am fine, Brother-Librarian." His helmet was smashed, and he ripped it off, his face bloody, but burning with determination. "I can still fight."

"It is time, Brother-Sergeant, for us to make our final benedictions." I said.

Argus nodded.

"We are ready."

"It has been an honor, Argus." I said, clapping him on the shoulder pad. I switched to the general close-range vox frequency.

"Space Marines! What is your life?" I said through the vox.

"_My Honor is my life!"_

Storm Bolters from the Terminator formation stitched disciplined waves of fire into the zombies, punching bloody holes into the mass.

"What is your fate?"

A Thunder Hammer boomed, sending Tanks flying off the building. The rooftop began to rumble as the structure weakened.

"_My duty is my fate!" _

Assault Marines soared back and forth, tearing into zombie flesh with their chainswords with unrivalled fury.

"And what is your fear?"

White fire burned a group of Smokers to charred husks.

"_My fear is to fail!"_

I punched a Tank, sending the beast reeling backwards. Before it could recover, I grabbed its tiny head and sent the Emperor's wrath coursing into the Tank, psychic energy searing the mutated muscle, burning it inside out as it shuddered and roared as white flames consumed it.

"What is your reward?"

A group of marines, their bolters empty, formed a line behind the Assault Terminators' protective circle, their knives and makeshift weapons carving up the mobs of zombies, protecting the flanks of the Terminator brothers.

"_My salvation is my reward!"_

Smokers lashed out, snaring weapons and limbs, causing fatal distractions. A Terminator was punched off the rooftop by a Tank, his Storm Bolter still spitting bolts at the zombies as he plummeted to his death.

"What is your craft?"

The remaining Devastators sent volley after volley of destruction into the masses of zombies. Lascannon fire punched through Tank after Tank, while Heavy bolter fire scythed through infected like a scythe through wheat.

"_My craft is death!"_

A single Space Marine, combat knife in his left hand, grenade in the other, single-handedly held off a tide of zombies, his knife flashing while he spun, kicked and punched. The body of an eviscerated Tank lay nearby, and many more surged forward to take him into the abyss. The Space Marine brought down two more Hunters before another brought him down. Moments later, a ball of fire engulfed the whole area, leaving charred bodies and mangled limbs behind.

I drew in a breath, summoning the last of my strength.

"AND WHAT IS YOUR PLEDGE, BROTHERS?"

"MY PLEDGE IS ETERNAL SERVICE!" The roar from the Space Marines overpowered the chaos of the infected, gunfire, and death. For a brief moment, everything was clear again, and there was only duty, and death. I smiled.

"Break formations, and may we meet again at the Emperor's side."

**0630 hours, Mercy Hospital Rooftop, Zoey, Final Moments.**

Miles above the ground, in the midst of thousands of bloodthirsty zombies and genetically augmented superhumans tearing at each other, a handful of mere humans stood amongst the carnage and horror, watching as their deaths grew closer with every passing moment.

No words were spoken, none were needed. Smoke trailed from the cigarettes that they smoked together, their weapons trailed uselessly from their hands. They would no longer do any good.

Zoey tried hard to concentrate on the taste of the cigarette, and not count the number of guns that fell silent. She had tried a cigarette or two in her college days, but never actually got the habit. This cigarette was all crushed and bent from being thrown around in Bill's pocket, but the taste was exquisite. It was the best thing she had ever tasted, and smoking it calmed her down somewhat.

She recalled their frantic dash from the apartments all the way down to the infested streets, their meeting with the Space Marine Darius, their push through the sewers, holding up in the rot-smelling safehouses, the quiet moments before another rush, the hope of rushing to extraction, and having those hopes dashed, and she smiled. They had made it this far at least, it was much further then heck, any other _human_ else could say.

Francis sat next to her, his hands nervously tapping the butt of his shotgun. He flicked a glance at her, and she gave him a tired smile.

"Uh, Zoey," he said. "Just wanted ya to know, I'm glad we got you to hang around with us. I mean, you've been, ah, awesome, and uh, just wish we met earlier, ya'know?"

She laughed, surprised that she still could.

"No, I don't know. Spit it out, Francis."

He blushed, and stared at his boots.

"I mean, you're hot and all, hell, but you're not just another of those bimbos with nothing much for a noggin, y'know? I'm just, uh, fucking glad we could-"

He never finished his sentence as Zoey grabbed him and locked him in a ferocious kiss. Momentarily stunned, he didn't take long to recover and soon they were engulfed in a passionate embrace.

All of Zoey's fear, panic and desperation flooded through her in a chaotic broil of emotion as she kissed him. She drank in every moment, the heat of his mouth, and the passion of the embrace. She didn't hear the screams of the infected anymore, nor did she hear Bill's disgusted snort and Louis's snigger, his muttering "about damned time" under his breath. She did not see five massive figures stomping towards them.

When the kiss finally broke, Francis gaped at her, lost for words for once. She offered a shamefaced grin. Francis glanced upwards suddenly, and she followed his gaze, seeing five massive shapes towering above her.

Five Space Marines stood before them, their white and red armor so thoroughly drenched in blood that the white of the ceramite could no longer be seen. One of them was a Terminator, the green eyepieces of his helmet glared down at the humans.

"We swore an oath to protect humanity and its people." The Terminator boomed. "We will now uphold that oath onto death."

The humans just stared.

"But after all that we have been through, you no longer need protecting." The Terminator continued. "You will do us a great honor if you allow us to stand with you in our final moments. Brothers, and sister all."

Bill rose to his feet, and clasped the proffered gauntlet.

"I'd offer you a smoke, but I'm all out. Hell, you can stand with us anytime. Brothers all indeed."

One of the marines, the lascannon marine Polus, grinned, his teeth bloody.

"They shall pay a high price for our lives." He said. "For Darius!"

"FOR THE EMPEROR!" The others shouted as the marines fired their weapons into the few infected that began charging the humans.

The zombies had started rushing the ruins of the bunker, and on the still intact roof, the Space Marines and humans stood. The survivors rose from their positions, and took up their positions for the last time, not behind the Space Marines as it had been for the past night, but this time, next to them as humans and Space Marines stood side by side.

As zombies began to rush the survivors, the Space Marines that still had ammunition left in their weapons opened fire, while others waited with bloody combat knives. Zoey gripped her pistol tightly, the other gun lying on the ground at her feet, empty. She counted only seven rounds left in her pistol, sliding the half-empty clip back into the gun with a satisfying click.

Seven rounds; that would be six more zombies that would not touch her or her friends. The last round was so that the rotting S. would never have her.

Francis stood next to her, his shotgun hefted with one hand. Zoey smiled and grabbed his free hand. She gave it a reassuring squeeze as they stared down the incoming horde.

_Six._

The pistol was astonishingly loud as she fired off a shot, perhaps reminding her that time was running out.

_Five._

She took more careful aim, choosing to bring down the specials instead of the regular infected. She saw the Terminator wrestling with a Tank, his Storm Bolter lay empty on the ground beside him. Polus fired beam after beam, and his backpack was flashing red.

_Four._

She smiled to herself. There was no more fear, only a sense of peace as the horde pressed closer and her gun felt lighter. It would all be over soon.

**0650 hours, Librarian Joseph Niveh, Mercy Hospital Rooftop. No Mercy.**

It was time. I had done all that I could, and it was now time for me to stand clear before the Emperor. My staff was blacken and charred with all the power I had channeled through it, and my gauntlets were beginning to fuse with the ancient staff that my predecessor had passed on to me.

I would not wait for the fiends to smother me to death under their filthy flesh. Librarian Joseph Niveh shall choose his own death.

I grabbed a pouncing Hunter, and held it up to my height until I stared face to face with it. I could see the hate reflected in those yellow eyes, and the white fire of my own. I sneered as the Hunter began to convulse, its skin flickering as white flames consumed it. The fire engulfed the Hunter, leaving behind only dust in my hand. The fire that consumed the hunter refused to die out though; I refused to let it die, feeding it with my hatred, with the deaths of my brothers, with my failure. It coursed through my arm, the full force of my fury melting my arm plates.

Argus shot me a glance, and nodded.

"Goodbye, Brother Librarian. May we meet again at the Emperor's side."

I nodded, although I knew that we would not.

I slammed my staff into the ground, and brought up my fire-engulfed arm to my temple, unleashing the full force of my might into the tainted world before me. The Hunter that I incinerated earlier ensured that my might shall smite only the impure, leaving my brothers to find their own glorious deaths. I had shed enough of their blood.

I heard screaming, and I dimly realized that it was my own. Crackling energy lifted me off my feet in a torrent of psychic energy. My senses faded as I allowed my power to consume my own body, and with a blinding flash of energy, I brought my failures to an end.

The white light ceded from my mind, and darkness crept up to take its place.

**0700 hours, dawn, Mercy Hospital. The End.**

Stories are told all the time. They are some of the quickest ways to pass on information, or are simply told to remember those worth remembering. Some are accurate, some are not. A good storyteller always knows when to let detail pass by for the sake of a good story, and more often than not, the truth is left out, and only those that were in the story itself will ever know what really happens.

Some stories paint grandiose and elaborate tales of bravery and valor, of how a group of Space Marines choose to defend the last of Holy Terra's citizens to the last man. Some stories are less grand, but no less important, and tell of how mere men and women can triumph in the face of instant defeat, showing bravery and endurance that would rival that of the Emperor's Finest.

Even on the rooftop of the ruined Mercy Hospital, stories were already beginning to be told. Some spoke of Librarian Niveh's last strike against the unending tide of heresy, while others spoke of Chaplain Marcus's fury as he led the final purge through Mercy Hospital, cleansing the last of the tainted humans from the city in one single sweep.

These stories are stories of hope. Hope that came when instead of a new wave of rotting zombies, the massive forms of the Space Marines of the Temple Chapter emerged onto the rooftop, coming at last to save their lost brothers from the jaws of oblivion. There was also hope, when Apothecary Aegimus knelt before the charred body of Joseph Niveh, and declared that the Librarian still lived.

Some things, even the stories cannot explain, and neither can the characters who were there. The truth dead, along with those that bore it. Like how a Space Marine recovery team found the remains of Sergeant Thanthus and his motley force of over thirty Space Marines; the Sergeant holding the remains of a human female as if to shield her from a storm, an empty bolt pistol in his other hand.

The dead were given the utmost reverence, for they had served the Emperor with the finest deed a Space Marine could do: service unto death. Even after the battle, the work of the Emperor's Finest did not cease, for their fallen had to be collected so that they can be given the rest and honor that the rightfully deserve.

With the coming dawn, those that had survived the last stand on Mercy Hospital milled about uncertainly, as if unsure of what to do next now that there were no more enemies to fight. Some helped dig their fallen brothers out of the mass of rotting flesh, while others merely stared at the rising sun, which brought hope back into the hearts of the Terra's children.

Not all stories are filled with glory and bravery however, some instead remain untold, shrouded in secrecy and silence. Far above the city, the last stars in the skies faded away with the sun, but some stars, drifted in another direction. The blinking lights of the skull probes signaled their retreat from Fairfield City. They had recorded all that their masters needed to know, and they would now reattach themselves to the _Indomitable_, where their bone-white shells blended in perfectly with the burnished white of the battle barge's hull, save for the stylized "I" stenciled on each probe. Their information awaiting interpretation from their masters, all without knowledge of anyone else.

Sitting around what was left of the rooftop bunker, was a single Terminator, four marines, and a four humans, small, frail, and as enduring as the toughest Space Marine. An old man, who looked too old to run, let alone fight off a horde of zombies for days, a young girl, with one round left in her pistol, her face lined with fatigue but her eyes filled with life in the grim scene, a tattooed biker who for once, did not hate everything around him, and a mild mannered businessman, who seemed perfectly content with life as it is now.

These humans would be spoken of with awe, and a slight hint of reverence, for they had shown the heavily augmented and superhuman Space Marines that even the most mundane of the Emperor's citizens can show strength that can overcome all in the face of certain death.

The last vestiges of the night crept away as the sun rose, and brought about an odd reverence from all who stood on the rooftop. The brothers fell silent as the golden rays of the sun touched their blood-drenched armor, and many bowed to whisper silent prayers of thanks to the Emperor. Even Chaplain Marcus remained silent as the Apothecaries carried Joseph Niveh away, working frantically to preserve the Librarian's life. Two black-clad humans stood uncertainly behind him, and after glancing around uneasily for a moment, they walked towards the bunker ruins, where possibly the last remaining humans on Earth were seated.

Brother Captain Destrol strode purposefully through the carnage, his power armor crunching through infected flesh and bone with every step. The ground was littered with bodies, and it was like wading through a pool of flesh. The Space Marines began to rise from their rest, and started moving out, clearing away the dead and packing up what was left. Soon, they would embark on the incoming Thunderhawks and return to the _Indomitable_, where they would resume their service to the Emperor once more, another mission under their belts, another grand story to tell.

"What will you do now?" Destrol said quietly to the survivors as he stood behind them, a massive shadow in the background.

Bill shrugged, and puffed on a cigarette he bummed from the commando.

"What can we do? Keep survivin. That's what we do best."

Destrol nodded, then turned to leave. He paused in mid turn.

"You could come with us, start your lives anew. It would be an honor to have you with us."

Bill smiled, and stared at the skyline, now bright with golden beams of the first morning, infection free at last.

* * *

**No Zombies survived the making of this Story.**

**The Emperor Protects.**


	13. Post Credits

**0800 hours, Mercy Hospital Interior, Scout Sergeant Epilus.**

Sifting through the enemy dead was dirty work; work that full battle brothers would not bother with. These things were left to the scouts. Epilus and his squad waded through the dead zombies, their lower torsos drenched in blood and zombie remains.

"Here it is. The biggest entrance to the rooftop was sealed at this angle." Epilus said, bringing his squad to a halt in front of a giant cave-in of wall and debris.

"Charges were detonated here, it was a wonder that they did not bring down the whole building." Epilus motioned his brothers forward. "Move initiates, the Techmarines want this area cleared and searched. Any of our fallen brothers here are to be recovered."

His initiates started to move the rubble with alacrity, careful not to risk destabilizing the surrounding structure too quickly. A large power armored form strode in to lend a hand.

"Apothecary Felix," Epilus acknowledged. "Your presence here is welcome. We were told that many brothers fell here. We shall ensure that their gene-seed is recovered and that our fallen brethren continue to live on in our new initiates."

"Our dead may not be many, sergeant," Felix said, brandishing several filled redactor vials that contain the Chapter's future: the gene-seed of the Space Marines. "But even if one of our own has fallen, we will move an entire building to recover him. They deserve that much at least."

"Sergeant!" One of the scouts shouted. "Two of our brothers lie here; we shall clear a space around them."

Epilus glanced at the Apothecary, who withdrew his Reductor and stomped over to the fallen marines. Felix knelt before the first one, and began to mutter to himself as he worked.

"Head caved in, both from enemy force and by the blast." He pried open the shattered breastplate and cut out the Progenoid gland from the fallen marine. He placed the gland into an empty vial, and said a quick prayer over the fallen body. He moved to the second one, and knelt before the body.

"Suit integrity, zero. Armor broken but fused to body. This brother, he was the one who detonated the charges. Emperor rest his soul. His armor could not shield him completely from the blast, although the rubble protected him from the tampering of the foul warp-spawn." Felix cut apart the shattered ceramite breastplate as best as he could, and bent to retrieve the fallen Marine's gene-seed.

Apothecary Felix jerked upright, his body conveying shock while his helmet could not. He turned to Epilus.

"Summon the Thunderhawks, emergency extraction. This one still lives."


End file.
